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Dr. Walter E. Traprock and Snak 



MY 
NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

THE KAWA AT THE POLE 



BY 
WALTER E. TRAPROCK 

F.R.S.S.E.U., N.L.L.D. 

AUTHOR OF "the CRUISE OF THE KAWa'* 



WITH TWENTY-ONE FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 

XLbc IRntcfterbocFiet press 

1922 



€''' 

^.v^ 



Copyright, 1922 

by 

G. P. Putnam's Sons 



Made in the United States of America 



^;.% 




OCT 10 '22 

©CU683606 



i> 



DEDICATED 

TO 

IKIK, SNAK, YALOK, LAPATOK 
AND KLIPITOK 

(the only ESKIMOS I EVER LOVED) 
AND 

SAUSALITO 



FOREWORD 

BY 

Irving T. Grosbeak^ R.O.T.C. 
at durfee college^ xenia^ o. 

For hundreds of years men have struggled amid 
snow and ice to reach one or the other of the earth's 
poles. Why? What has attracted them? What 
has been the lure which has led them from warm 
firesides and comfortable radiators to suffer the 
rigors of a most annoying climate? 

We search in vain among the writings of modern 
polar explorers for a satisfactory answer to this 
question. 

In earlier days we find credible reasons for this 
fanatical zeal, reasons which were material and com- 
mercial. In the dark ages we know that hardy 
Norsemen sought an Ultima Thule beyond the 
Arctic Circle. The Irish also claim credit for the 
earliest discoveries. They would. These voyages 
were mere forays undertaken with the hope of ad- 

7 



8 FOREWORD 

vantages in barter and exchange. Following the 
establishment by Columbus of the globular theory 
of earth formation we read, likewise, of many futile 
attempts to reach the fabled wealth of India by 
short cuts and northwest passages. The adven- 
turous Cabots, fearless Frobisher and gallant Gil- 
bert were mainly occupied with material aims, the 
securing of additional colonies for the crown, 
additional gold for the royal treasury. They were 
out for the cush. 

But when we turn to modern days in which the 
forbidding character of the northland has been well 
understood we are more puzzled to find a reason- 
able explanation for its fascination. We meet fre- 
quently that strange phrase, "the lure of the 
North," which is later described in terms of un- 
speakable hardships. We are told that this or that 
expedition was undertaken in order "to add to the 
sum of human knowledge" though that addition 
proves to be a series of tidal observations and baro- 
metric readings which could have been arrived at 
with sufficient exactness by scientific computations. 

Moreover, without belittling the courage and de- 
termination of our gallant Peary, it is evident that 
his exploit was not discovery in its strictest sense. 
The pole had been located for centuries as being 



FOREWORD 9 

the exact point of convergence of the meridional 
lines. Its precise position was known. To reach it, 
then, was a problem in transportation rather than 
one of actual discovery. This problem Peary solved 
magnificently and since that memorable April 6th, 
1909, the flags of the United States, Delta Kappa 
Epsilon (Gnu Chapter), the world's Ensign of 
Peace, the Navy League and the Red Cross have 
flapped concertedly at the top of the world. 

And yet the mystery has remained. We can not 
read the stories of these brave men, from the most 
successful to the least, without wondering what it 
was which actually drew them into the regions of 
eternal ice and snow. We can but suspect some 
great, unrevealed truth, some untold secret lying 
back of the veil of fog, shrouded in the darkness of 
the long Arctic night. 

May we not well ask, "Has the entire truth been 
told? has the last word been spoken which will for- 
ever answer the natural question, why go there?" 

It has remained for Walter E. Traprock to 
answer that question in no uncertain terms. The 
writer has no hesitation in saying that since the 
perusal of Dr. Traprock's log the entire northern 
question has been illuminated with perpetual sun- 
shine. 



10 FOREWORD 

It is not within the province of this foreword to 
go into details. The reader can, at the close of this 
book, lay it do^vn with the thought that he knows 
the whole story of the North, the truth, the whole 
truth, and a lot else. 

But it would be wrong for us to lay our pen 
aside without a word of explanation as to how the 
Traprock Polar Expedition came to be undertaken, 
for the circumstances were at once so dramatic and 
unusual as to warrant their preservation in definite 
form. In the spring of 1921, following Traprock's 
amazing discovery of the Filbert Islands, a meet- 
ing of the Explorers Union of the United States 
was held in the Federation Rotunda in Cambridge, 
Mass. The name of Traprock was in every mouth 
and to many it was distinctly unpalatable. A three 
days meeting resulted in the formation of the Trap- 
rock Polar Expedition. One half of the necessary 
funds was supplied by the Federation, the re- 
mainder being pledges by individuals.* But here is 
the dramatic truth which has never before been 
stated. 

THE FEDERATED EXPLORERS 
NEVER EXPECTED DR. TRAPROCK TO 
RETURN! 

* All of these individual pledges are still outstanding. — ^Ed. 



FOREWORD 11 

The entire expedition was a deliberate plot on 
the part of jealous scientific men to forever remove 
from the field of action their most brilliantly suc- 
cessful rival. How this dastardly effort failed is 
told in the succeeding pages, which add fresh lustre 
to the crown, fresh laurel to the brows of America's 
intrepid son, Walter E. Traprock. 

A mere statement of the fact that the first con- 
dition of Traprock's contract was that he should 
not only reach the Pole himself but that he should 
take his ship there will indicate the handicaps which 
were imposed from the start. 

Did Traprock flinch or evade? Did he hesitate 
or shilly-shally. 

Let the ice-bergs answer! Let the seals bark 
reply ! Let the north wind howl its answer. 

Better still, let the testimony of Traprock be 
graved on the Palisades of Time, that the world 
may know forever just exactly "Why Explorers 
Leave Home!" 

Irving T. Grosbeak. 
Hall of Applied Ceramics, 
Durfee College, Xenia, O. 



CONTENTS 

Chapter I 

The Origin of the Expedition. A memorable meeting. 
Inklings of a plot. My innocent enthusiasm. Our per- 
sonnel. I put the proposition up to Triplett . Page 17 

Chapter II 

Our triumphant departure. A man missing. Wigmore*s 
gallant embarkation. The Kawa herself. A new idea in 
construction. A few boresome details . . . Page 31 

Chapter III 

The choice of a route. Off at last. We take aboard a 
passenger. Seeds of discontent. Into the long twilight. 
Radio reversals. The ice at last. Trouble with our 
water-line. Its happy solution . . . Page 55 

Chapter IV 

We reach the polar cap. The strange incident of the 
missing Orders. Who stole the papers? The Arctic 
summer. A sportsman's Paradise. Notes from my 
journal. Whinney's sad experience . . Page 79 

Chapter V 

The last ten miles. A mental observation. We lose our 
magnetic bowsprit. The Big Peg at last! "The Lady, 
first!" We celebrate our arrival. I glimpse a vision. 

Page 103 

13 



14 CONTENTS 



Chapter VI 

Fatal procrastination. Our one-dimensional position. An 
extraordinary ornithological display. I confide in Swank. 
His plan. I capture my vision. The Bllinkas. An em- 
barrassing incident Page 131 

Chapter VII 

Still procrastinating. Our pastimes at the Pole. An 
exchange of love-tokens. Ikik's avowal. Caught in the 
embrace of the Aurora Page 163 

Chapter VIII 

The Arctic Night. The temptation of Traprock. The 
pros and cons of falling. We solve an age-old riddle. 
Our Polar Christmas. The love-philtre. Abandonment. 

Page 181 

Chapter IX 

Sausalito's strategy. Orders must be obeyed. We turn 
southward. The parting. Mutiny and desertion. In the 
grip of the Ice King. A fight to the finish. Victory. 

Page 205 

Chapter X 

In home waters. The celebration in our honor. And 
what of my companions? Reveries and Recollections. 
The End Page 229 



" The Camera Cannot Lie" 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 



Dr. Walter E. Traprock and Snak . 

Frontispiece 

Triplett the Undaunted ... 23 

Un Dejeuner a la Bougie ... 35 

What the Well-dressed Explorer wusl 

Wear 47 

The Big Hunting 59 

The Two Bears 71 

The Nine o'Clock Bottle ... 83 

Intensive Optimism . . . . .95 

TheAyowal ...... 107 

About to be Captured . . . .117 

Something New in Dramatics , . . 127 

After the Bath 137 

Dinner is Seryed 147 

A Far-off Fashion Plate . . . 157 

15 



16 



ILLUSTRATIONS 





PAGE 


A NiMROD OF THE NORTH . 


. 167 


An Arch Archeologist 


. 177 


The Battle on the Brink 


. 187 


Ode to the Aurora . 


. 197 


A Moment Musical . 


. 209 


Dirty Work at the Igloo? 


. 221 


A Consultation .... 


. 233 



Photographs by 
N. COURTNEY OWEN 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 



Chapter I 

The Origin of the Expedition. A memorable 
meeting. Inklings of a plot. My innocent 
enthusiasm. Our personnel. I put the propo- 
sition up to Triplett. 



17 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Chapter I 

"Mushl" 

The cry of command rang out on the frosty air. 

"Mushl" 

Again the surroimding ice echoed the word which 
seems, more than any other, to tell the whole story 
of the North. 

At its repetition, my sturdy followers hurled their 
bulks against the trace-collars while a babel of 
exhortation shattered the silence. "Let's go!" 
"We're off." "Attaboy!" 

The Traprock Polar Expedition was on its way! 

We had reached the edge of the great polar-pack. 
Those of my readers whose knowledge of ice packs 
is limited to those which can be wrapped in an ordi- 
nary hand-towel can, of course, form no impression 
of the magnitude and desolation of the scene which 
lay before us. As far as the eye could see. . . . 

But I am far north of my narrative. It would 

19 



20 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

be an obvious injustice to my companions and fel- 
low-polarists to omit mention at this time of the per- 
sonnel of our extraordinary expedition, the most 
complete and carefully organized that ever set out 
toward the Big Peg. 

Let us go back, then, in memory to the eventful 
meeting of the Explorers Union, held in Cambridge 
on Friday, April 1st, 1921. I can see the picture 
with vivid distinctness, the shining bald-heads and 
snowy crowns of the aged members, o'er arched by 
the larger but no more dignified dome of the 
Rotunda itself, the bright spots of light on the 
polished mahogany table, the swift fingered sec- 
retary, who had gorgeous henna hair, I remember — 
I can see it all; — and I can hear clearly the voice 
of old Dr. Waxman, the President, (whose exploits 
in the Ant- Arctic will be well remembered,*) as he 
rose and said, 

"Well then, gentlemen, it is settled. Traprock 
must go." 

The company as one man echoed the President's 
remark. 

"Traprock must go!" 

With the sound of this verdict ringing in my ears 
I delivered a short speech of appreciation. Little 

* "Ants of the Ant- Arctic" by W. W. Waxman, F.O.B. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 21 

did I realize at the time the sinister influences which 
had been at work to bring about the very result 
which so filled my heart with pride. Little did I 
know that among the men who sat by my side that 
evening sharing with me the hand and hip of friend- 
ship, passing me an occasional peanut from the store 
which the President was cracking with his gavel, 
little did I imagine that among them were some to 
whom the words "Traprock must go" meant a far 
different thing from what it did to me. But as old 
Tertullian has it, ''Nemo me impune lacessit" — 
"What you don't know won't hurt you"; and so 
from a full heart I thanked them. 

At the end of twenty minutes, President Wax- 
man interrupted me to ask, "When can you start?" 

I heard one of the older members whisper, "Not 
'when can he start?' When can he stop?" 

"Now." I answered with characteristic brevity, 
giving the whispering member a look which he will 
never forget. 

The meeting broke up forthwith. Before leaving 
the Rotunda, Adolph Banderholtz, Secretary-for- 
Polar- Affairs of the Explorers Union (which I 
shall hereafter refer to as the E.U.) handed me a 
typewritten list of names. 

"These are our nominations for the expedition," 



TRIPLETT THE UNDAUNTED 

Captain Ezra Triplett, the navigator of Dr. Traprock's metamor- 
phic yawl needs no introduction to students of marine accomplish- 
ment. To lay-readers perhaps a brief preamble is in order. Born a 
not-too-simple son of New Bedford, Mass., Triplett has climbed the 
rope-ladder of success from cabin-boy to Captaincy, from poop-deck 
to mast-head. Gifted with uncanny nautical skill this Captain 
Courageous is equally at home on ice. 

Seldom if ever has the camera been more successful in catching 
the very soul of the sitter, who in this case is standing. But 
whether assis or debout Ezra Triplett is always master of the 
situation. The animals in the background are not dogs but Amoks, 
those wild vulpines of the North which have been trained by hand 
to obey their master's voice. 

The whip, coiled snake-like about the Captain's friendly artics, is 
an entirely superfluous emblem of authority, for this remarkable 
man achieves his results by the power of the human eye alone. In 
this connection it should be noted that Triplett is limited to a single 
optic. The one on the right as one faces the photograph is phony, 
the original having literally leaped out of its socket many years 
ago during an exciting kangaroo hunt. The eye, rolling away into 
the bush, was never recovered in spite of a handsome reward-notice 
in the Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide press. Thus Triplett lost 
not only the sight of the eye but the eye itself. What the Captain 
achieves with his single orb is nothing short of amazing and we have 
frequently seen him face-down such fearless fellow-men as George 
Jean Nathan merely by turning towards them his blind eye. 

Both attitude and costume are superbly characteristic, the massive 
oak-timbered frame filling to repletion the bearskin jerkin with its 
practical one-man-top. As a protection for the nether limbs Trip- 
lett invariably wore light woolen pajamas with gee-string exits and 
entrances. This scant covering was ample even in the severest 
weather, owing to the fact that Triplett's own limbs are clothed 
with a heavy coat of natural fur which, in his own words, is "grown 
on the place." 






1 



Triplett the Undaunted 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 25 

he said with his shallow smile. "You will find them 
admirably equipped in their respective depart- 
ments. Good-bye." 

He extended a limp hand which I hurt as much 
as possible by using a peculiar grip taught me by an 
old swaboda in the Malay peninsula. He went 
deathly white and faded from my view. I fear I do 
not always realize my strength. 

Banderholtz is one of the type of arm-chair ex- 
plorers which I particularly detest. Everything he 
does is superficial. In the early days when airplanes 
were safer than they are now because they would 
not rise more than six feet from the ground, he 
gained a great reputation as a birdman on the 
strength of once having been up in a captive-bal- 
loon in the Bois de Boulogne. 

But this is no place for personal animosities. I 
caught the midnight train to New York, rang for 
the Porter and insisted that my section be un-made 
and a table furnished. Now that the matter was 
settled I was burning with a desire to work out the 
details. All night I toiled away, the click of my 
typewriter being the only sound except an occa- 
sional curse from the occupants of nearby berths. 
An old gentleman in upper-seven disturbed me 
somewhat with his snoring but gradually the sound 



26 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

blended itself with the snorts of the sea-lions which 
I was already hearing in imagination and I became 
oblivious to all interruption. When the train pulled 
into Grand Central my preliminary work was com- 
plete. My various lists, personnel, food, equip- 
ment, scientific objects, etc. had all been sketched 
out. The remaining weeks of April were devoted 
to the detail of complete organization, all of which 
I attended to personally. 

Since I have already spoken of the E.U. list of 
names, I may as well dispose of the subject at this 
time. Quite naturally it was composed, in the main, 
of scientific men, men famed each in his particular 
field. I knew them by their works, and a casual 
glance at the list convinced me that our expedition 
would compare with the best in its scientific depart- 
ments. 

The first name was that of Warburton Plock, 
whose reputation in anthropology, zoology and 
biology fitted him to size up and classify any living 
thing. Plock's work on simians and femurae is the 
accepted monkey-manual in most menageries. I 
shall never forget the impression it made upon me 
the first time I read it. 

The important studies of cartography, ocean- 
ography, topography and kindred subjects were 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 27 

allotted to Elmer E. Miskin, of the E.U. library 
forces. Miskin was what one might call a self-made 
explorer. He had worked his way up from the 
bottom of the paper basket, through a long course 
in filing and cataloguing. While a boy in the grade 
schools of his native town of Peapack, N. J. he had 
shown early promise by winning five consecutive 
gold stars in map -drawing and one of his prize- 
winning creations with the Orange Mountains rep- 
resented by caterpillars glued on the cardboard now 
hangs behind the door of the Principal's ofiice of 
the Hooker Avenue School. This was his first ex- 
perience in the field. 

Three other names complete the E.U. list, Croy- 
den Sloff, magnetician, electrician and victrologist, 
Winchester Wigmore, snow- and ice-expert and 
Bartholomew Dane, eg^^ptologist. 

It was with surprise that I saw the name of War- 
burton Plock. We had met frequently in the old 
days when we used to gather round the keg at the E. 
U. meetings and our feelings had always been anti- 
pathetic. But I resolved that no fancied grudges 
should cloud the sky of our venture and immedi- 
ately wired Plock a cordial telegram saying, "Am 
counting on your loyal support and hope I shall 
get it." 



28 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

It is hardly necessary to say that my own selec- 
tions for travelling companions included my old 
friends Herman Swank, the artist, and Reg Whin- 
ney, scientist, whose loyalty and devotion during 
my South Sea travels have forged links of friend- 
ship which can never be broken. Swank's enthusi- 
asm at the prospect of actually painting the aurora 
borealis from life was unbounded. He at once 
thought of his colleagues in the colorful modern 
school. "I'll have them skinned a mile," he cried. 

Other men may possibly excel in special lines, but 
I am confident that as an all-round scientist, Whin- 
ney can give them all cards and spades. His fund 
of general information saved me thousands of dol- 
lars for he combined several people in one. For 
instance he knew quite enough about medicine to be 
our official doctor. As soon as he received the polar 
invitation he set about studying polar diseases, snow 
blindness, scurvy, chill-blains, frost-bite and so on. 
He was an expert photographer and got results 
from a 3% x 4% Kodak that surprised everybody 
including himself. He had also become keenly in- 
terested in radiography and brought a complete 
outfit aboard with him, using his own body as a 
spool upon which to coil his antennae until they 
could be rigged in a proper manner. Most 



MY NORTHERX EXPOSURE 29 

men have two sides, but Whinney had at least a 
dozen. He combined many men in one. Way 
back in our college days I recall that he was taken 
on the Christmas trip of the Glee Club because 
he could play the banjo and he made the banjo- 
club because he could sing. He wasn't good at 
either but he averaged well. 

In addition to Swank and \\Tiinney, I made 
another selection based on painstaking thought. I 
asked my hfe-long friend, Sydney Freemantle 
Frissell, to go along as recreationist and entertainer. 
Northern expeditions, especially through the long 
hours of the Arctic night are very dull affairs. 
Along about midnight, with morning three months 
away, the party is apt to die. Then is when a man 
like Frissell is invaluable. He has no brains what- 
ever, but the most amazing vitahty and can wake up 
any assembly by sheer audacit}^. I dehberated a 
long time as to whether to get Ed W}Tin or Frissell, 
but finally decided in favor of Frizzy as he could 
come and Wjmn couldn't. 

Needless to say, our Captain was the same 
staunch old oak-framed navigator, Ezra Triplett, 
who had gotten the Kawa into so many tight holes 
in the past. 

"What ship?" he asked when I put it up to him. 



30 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

"Kawa," I said. 

"Done, by thunder," he roared. 

Honest Ezra Triplett! Loyal, staunch friend, 
quaint, saturnine, creature that he is. 

"Doc," he said, "I'd like darn well to take one of 
my wives along. It's gonter be kinder lonely up 
there in the ice with all you boys off gunnin'." 

I smiled indulgently at the old man's foibles. 

"Which one do you want to take?" 

"The gal from Sausalito," he explained. "I 
ain't seen her in about a year, an' I'm gettin' kinder 
fed-up on . . . you know . . . Noo York." 

I nodded. "We'll have to keep it secret. You 
know I've absolutely forbidden it. She can join us 
at St. Johns and come aboard as ward-robe woman. 
No one must suspect that she is your wife." ^ 

Triplett shifted his quid and slowly winked his 
false eye. 

"She ain't," he said. 



Chapter II 

Our triumphant departure. A man missing. Wig- 
more' s gallant embarkation. The Kama her- 
self, A new idea in construction, A few 
horesome details. 



81 



Chapter II 

From her berth in the Harlem, the Kawa 
steamed, or to be more exact, gasolined, to the land- 
ing stage of the N.Y.Y.C. station at the foot of 
East Twenty-second St. Our progress had been 
one of triimiph. Every passing ship had hailed us 
by bell, whistle or horn, to which was added the 
hoarse blare of sirens from the converted breweries 
which line the banks. Gay stevedores threw their 
caps in the air and tossed lumps of coal in our direc- 
tion, surely a magnificent tribute with coal at its 
present price. Street urchins shouted unintel- 
Ugible remarks and all manner of citizens joined in 
the usual riparian rites. Passing under the stern 
of a United Fruit Company steamer, the cook 
waved a farewell from his galley and dumped a 
bucket of potato peelings in our path. 

Off Blackwell's Island the scene was particularly 
affecting, the inmates giving me an appreciative 
greeting, the trusties rushing to the sea wall and 

3 33 



UN DEJEUNER A LA BOUGIE 

The candle which Dr. Traprock presented to the beautiful Ikik as 
a love-token was generously shared by her with her co-wives. Its 
appeal, curiously, was entirely gustatory, the flavor of refined wax 
being a revelation to the native taste after their customary fare of 
seal-fat and fish-oil. 

Here we see the charming Yalok nibbling her share of the prized 
dainty. The candle shown is one of six, specially cast for Dr. Trap- 
rock by the Candlemas Club of Pittsburgh. Each one was designed 
to last a month and thus bring light into the Arctic night. The 
donors doubtless will be surprised and pleased at the knowledge that 
the heroic-size of their gift met with great appreciation though not, 
perhaps, in the way intended. 

"Evening after evening," says Dr. Traprock in a private letter to 
the editor, "the maidens sate about our Primus, passing the candle 
from hand to hand much as we pass a loving-cup, though with less 
reluctance. Each would nibble perhaps an inch from the coveted 
cylinder and then hand it to her neighbor, crying, 'Lapatok's turn!' 
or 'Klipitok's turn!' with the heartiest good-will imaginable." 

The eminent explorer adds in a later paragraph, **Yalok seemed 
the most greedily fond of the great taper and on one occasion nar- 
rowly escaped death from choking on the wick which became wound 
about her palate. Seeing her inordinate appetite for the strange 
food, Ikik gallantly ceded her share, but I solaced the latter by 
secretly giving her the beeswax tomato from my mending kit upon 
which she feasted in private with vast delight!" 

It is hard to imagine a more touching human sidelight than the 
above intimate incident. The Editor has forwarded a copy of Dr. 
Traprock's letter to the Candlemas Club where it is suitably framed 
and hung in the swimming-pool. 




Un Dejeuner a la Bougie 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 37 

gazing longingly in my direction while those in 
durance vile plucked off their shoes and beat upon 
the cell bars to attract my attention. With my 
glasses, I thought I recognized one or two familiar 
faces but I can not be sure. At any rate I feel cer- 
tain that their hearts went out to me even as mine 
went in to them, and I could but paraphrase the 
remark of Dean Bullock, "There, but for the Grace 
of God, is the whole Traprock Expedition." 

The reception at the Yacht Club station was a 
gay affair. It was positively my first appearance 
upon any landing-stage. The efficient steward had 
arranged an authoritative punch and many a hearty 
toast was pledged and responded to with feeling. 
But we were soon on our way again. My final 
orders sealed with the official-seal of the Explorers 
Union, were placed in my hands by the venerable 
President, Waxman, who was greatly affected at 
parting. He had been eating peanuts of which he 
was passionately fond, and I recall that he thrust a 
few of them into my hands after saying, "Traprock, 
we expect a great deal . . ." he choked, and was 
unable to complete his sentence. 

At exactly two o'clock, on the flood tide, we 
backed out of the pier and under Triplett's guid- 
ance worked our way sideways to mid-channel. The 



38 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

steward at the Yacht Club dipped his colors and 
fired a commodore's salute with his brass half- 
pounder to which I replied in proper fashion^ lining 
up the entire expedition at the rail, eyes-right, while 
Triplett blew our Klaxon and shook a chain of 
sleigh bells which Frissell had brought along "be- 
cause they seemed so northern." 

It was during this lining-up process that I dis- 
covered that one man was missing. It was Wig- 
more, the snow and ice expert, who had failed to 
put in an appearance and I was greatly depressed 
by the fact which seemed to me to be an evil omen. 
Moreover he was an extremely valuable man with 
vast experience in alpine work as well as in the 
practical phases of glaciology with which he came 
in contact in his work as general-manager of the 
Higley Ice Cream Cone Co. But marine law is 
rigid. We were due to sail at two sharp, Wigmore 
or no Wigmore, and we sped off without him. 

But my disappointment was to be almost im- 
mediately assuaged. When we were about an 
eighth of a mile above the Canal Street bridge, the 
last of the great arches which spans the river. 
Swank rushed up to me and cried, "Look, look. 
There he is !" 

I followed the direction of his pointing finger. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 39 

Sure enough, there was Wigraore, a tiny speck, 
running along the center span of the bridge. He 
was in full Alpine costume with rope, ax, pick 
and felt hat, and I saw to my amazement that he 
was going to board us. With the nimbleness of a 
chamois he scrambled over the railing, instantly 
beginning a spider-like descent of his rope which 
he had hooked above. Silhouetted against the sky 
I could see the curved feather in his cap, a minute 
question mark. The question in my mind was one 
of hair-raising anxiety. Would he make it, or not? 
Upon the answer seemed to depend the whole suc- 
cess or failure of our venture. His descent was 
timed to a nicety. Just as the Kawa plowed be- 
neath him he gave a shake of his body, loosening 
the fastening, and dropped lightly to the deck amid 
our resounding cheers. Was it only in imagina- 
tion that I saw the Goddess of Liberty wave her 
gigantic, torch-bearing arm, as if she too felt the 
thrill of a brave deed, nobly done? 

"Bravo, Wigmore," I cried. " But what detained 
you?" 

"My equipment, sir," he said, coming to atten- 
tion. "They wouldn't let me into my apartment. 
The clerk thought I was a line-man for the Edison 
Company." 



40 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

We all laughed heartily at the incident and 
settled down to routine-life on ship-board. - Our last 
farewell from the great port of the Metropolis was 
from the Detention Ward on Ellis Island. The 
Pesthouse band was out in full-force and blew 
germs into the air with much enthusiasm, but Trip- 
lett had laid a course to windward so that we felt 
no apprehension. 

It is perhaps not amiss at this point to say some- 
thing regarding the highly important part played 
in our expedition by the Kawa herself. She may 
be said, I think, to be the star of a distinguished 
cast, or more accurately, that she divided stellar 
honors with me. For one of the conditions which 
was part of my bargain with good old Waxman 
and his associates was that I should actually take 
my ship to the Pole! 

The expression on the faces of the worthy com- 
mittee of the E.U. when I accepted this astounding 
condition is something that I must leave to the 
reader's imagination. 

"Yes, gentlemen," I had said to them. "It can 
be done, and it will be done. Either I hitch the 
Kawa to the Pole or I never return!" 

My announcement was greeted with cheers. 

Immediately upon my return from Boston I 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 41 

closeted myself with Captain Triplett in the cozy 
nautical room of the Book-lovers Library and we 
jointly went over the layout of the Kawa from 
stem to stern. We were surrounded by files of 
drawings and a great mass of data upon naval 
architecture with special reference to Arctic con- 
ditions. From the outset I was imbued with a 
conviction that we should find nothing of real im- 
portance in what had been done before. A careful 
study of my predecessors convinced me that they 
had uniformly been on the wrong track. What 
they had tried to do was to fight the ice. What I 
proposed was to humor it. 

The outstanding feature of such vessels as the 
Fram and the Roosevelt was their rigidity. Their 
construction followed the general principle of the 
onion, consisting of numerous layers of heavy oak 
sheathing shored up from the inside with a veritable 
cob- web of balks, stanchions and braces. In addi- 
tion to this, the sides of these ships were shaped so 
as to offer as small a vulnerable target as possible. 
The idea was that the stupendous pinch and 
pressure of the ice-pack failing to get a firm hold 
of the vessel should project her up from and out 
of the ice. This idea is graphically illustrated by 
an ordinary, household orange seed pinched sharply 



42 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

between the thumb and forefinger. But I could 
not help smiling at the naive short-sightedness of 
these earlier men, for, assuming as sometimes hap- 
pened, that the constructive features functioned as 
outlined, what then? The ship was merely lifted 
up until she canted over at a ridiculous and uncom- 
fortable angle where she lay on the ice, a helpless 
and absurd spectacle. Further motion in any direc- 
tion was plainly impossible except at the whim of 
the floe itself which often evinces a contradictory 
tendency to move southward instead of northward 
as per schedule. 

While not wishing to discard entirely the idea 
of elusive conformation I saw at once that radical 
innovations would be necessary in order to accom- 
plish my object. In a word, I proposed to convert 
the Kawa into a non-rigid type of vessel. 

"Triplett," I said, during our first conference, 
"what is the slipperiest animal you know?" 

The ancient mariner scratched his head reflec- 
tively before replying. "Seals." 

"Right!" I cried. "Go to the seal, thou slug- 
gard! Triplett, it's an idea! We'll make the Kawa 
as easy to handle as a greased hot water bottle." 

For many days we worked over the plans and 
eventually began actual operations on the Kawa 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 43 

herself, hauling her out for the purpose at Tut- 
bury's shipyard. She was completely eviscerated. 
Her oak ribs and keel were removed and replaced 
by Austrian bent-wood, of the finest temper. A 
thin layer of yew-planking was laid over her sides 
with lapped, sliding joints, filled with elastic roof- 
ing-cement. Outside of this came a second layer 
of slippery elm (%" x 2%") laid diagonally so that 
the joints crossed those of the yew. The entire 
hull was then covered with seal-skin, fur side out. 
When she slid from the ways on her re-launching 
the Kawa took the water as noiselessly as a musk- 
rat, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we 
made her fast as she slipped from the ship-wright's 
grasp at the slightest pressure.* 

"Gosh-t-a'mighty," grinned Triplett. "She's a 
seall" 

You may be sure I utilized Whinney's scientific 
ingenuity and it is to him I owe two innovations 
which contributed greatly to our success. One of 
these was the magnetic bowsprit, highly sensitized 
by induction-coils run from the exhaust of our 
20 h.p. Tutbury engine; the other was the thermal 

*A quarter-scale model of the re-modeled Kawa has been pre- 
sented to the Smithsonian Institute by the Jibboom Club of New 
London, Ct. Needless to say all structural and mechanical details 
are thoroughly protected. 



44 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

water-line, the temperature of which could be raised 
to 180 degrees by turning a switch which connected 
with our storage batteries. Both of these inven- 
tions worked perfectly. 

Thanks to the bowsprit the problem of steering 
our svelte craft, about which Triplett had expressed 
some doubts, became a simple matter. Left to 
herself she invariably came up into the north and 
as that was the direction we wished to go all was 
well. The thermal water-line made passage through 
all but the thickest ice comfortable and easy. For 
many years the Kawa had had no water-line what- 
ever so that we were uncertain how she would be- 
have. The new one consisted of a thin layer of 
copper fastened to the elm siding, underneath the 
seal skin. I like to think that the little Kawa be- 
haved so nobly because she knew her water-line was 
not visible. 

Thus we arrived at a type of construction which 
gave us the strength and elasticity of a water-tight 
basket. What we had lost in rigidity we gained 
in feather-Hke lightness. Before her engines were 
installed the Kawa floated on the surface like a 
toy balloon. When loaded, as she usually was, 
she drew two-feet-six. The installation of the 
engine and stowing of stores also had a tendency 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 45 

to stabilize the hull and keep her masts pointing 
upward which was a distinct advantage. 

In addition to these marine features it was neces- 
sary to consider the eventuality of encountering 
solid, impenetrable ice in the region of the pole, 
ice through which even the thermal water-line would 
not make it possible for us to melt our way. 
Authorities agree that such ice may be expected 
north of eighty-six, even though we planned to time 
our arrival in that vicinit}^ for mid-summer when, 
as is well known, the weather is extremely hot. This 
is the fascination of Arctic travel ; one never knows 
what to expect. Our problem, then, was to make 
the Kawa equally at home on the floe or in the 
open leads, a glorified sea-sled. My previous ex- 
perience with the various types of sledges con- 
vinced me that for my purpose they were useless. 
My object was to take the Kawa to the Pole. Then 
why not make the Kawa herself a sled? 

I recognized instantly the feasibility of my 
scheme, which consisted of folding guide-runners 
framed of carefully selected greenheart. When 
not in use these runners extended horizontally along 
the counter, giving my little craft a singularly bird- 
like appearance. Incidentally they formed con- 
venient luggage carriers similar to those attached 



WHAT THE WELL-DRESSED EXPLORER WILL WEAR 

Fine feathers do not make fine birds, but aigrettes are still forty 
dollars a stalk. Something of this thought evidently dominated 
the mind of Warburton Plock in the selection of his wardrobe. 
Plock, who is shown against a typically iglootinous background, was 
the only member of the expedition who paid no heed to his leader's 
advice in this regard, namely, to dress off-the-Eskimos. Instead of 
so doing he ordered his outfit built for him by Buskwa, the leading 
tailor of Nome. The garments were taken aboard at St. John's and 
formed a large part of Plock's luggage. They varied in design 
from a simple going-away suit to the most elaborate mufti, sports 
costume and evening dress. 

In the attached fashion-plate the fastidious explorer is clad in 
the well-known "Buskwa-model" morning suit, which is made from 
the pelts of unborn teddy bears. This, according to the wearer, 
is the super-correct thing for the Young-Man-About-the-Pole. The 
accessory cane and cigarette are personal touches calculated to 
attract the attention of whomsoever he may meet north of Eighty-six. 
Vanity, in the Great White Spaces as elsewhere, precedes a fall, 
but usually only by a step or so. To be fair to the house of Buskwa 
it should be stated that Plock's garments were invariably tastefully 
designed and well-made. No detail of findings or linings was 
slighted. They were, however, entirely unsuited to the rigors of 
Polar climate. 

The Buskwa trade is chiefly derived from the wealthier Chicoutimi 
families living along the Mad River and points South. To single 
out a single defect, the self-drawing fish-pockets are doubtless use- 
ful features to a people who spend many hours in the salmon streams. 
In the icy polar region the cold air naturally forced its way through 
the sartorial scuppers with the result that the wearer was soon 
forced to don another suit to avoid freezing. At the time of his 
attempted escape Plock was wearing his entire wardrobe, seven 
suits in all, which were recovered with the body of the fugitive. 
The clothes were later eaten by members of the return-party, who 
more than once had occasion to pay tribute to the tailor who had 
selected such delicious materials. 




What the Well-dressed Explorer Will Wear 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 49 

to the running boards of automobiles and, in fair 
weather, could be used as piazzas or sleeping 
porches covered with a high pile of bear-skins to 
make occupancy easy. 

Thus you have a fairly complete idea of my 
metamorphosed vessel, adapted to meet any and 
all conditions. 

But one word more, as to stores and equipment, 
and I will promise not to bore my readers further 
with these deadly technical details, which I fully 
realize have prevented the success of many a tale 
of Arctic adventure. In making up my lists I was 
guided by a principle which I have followed all my 
life, namely, that of taking with me only those 
things for which a proper substitute could not be 
found in the high latitudes. This simple thought 
I always practise in a restaurant, for instance, 
where I never by any chance order anything which 
might be served in my home. Just prior to leaving 
New York I heard a gentleman ask for corned- 
beef hash in the Ritz! I could but pity him. Yet 
it is this apparently trivial tendency which has sent 
many an expedition off to the Arctic circle burdened 
with voluminous packs of furs and crushing weights 
of supplies, all of which could be most easily secured 
from the Eskimos themselves who, with the possible 



50 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

exception of the Cambodians, are the most friendly 
people I have ever encountered.* 

Our clothing then was of the lightest. We started 
our journey dressed in plain business suits such as 
are worn by guides in the Canadian wilderness, but 
stowed in our duffle-bags were ample quantities 
of light underwear, both union and non-union, 
while included in my personal kit were three pairs 
of medium-weight, woolen longs with reinforced or 
sliding seats to make progress over the ice more 
easy. For outer wear during the warm season we 
carried the conventional tennis flannels and Palm- 
Beach suits and I am thankful to Swank for the 
suggestion that we include the tropical helmets 
which had shielded us so faithfully in the Filberts. 
They proved of inestimable value. 

Most travellers into the land of refrigeration 
insist upon taking in with them bales of hay with 
which to pack their boots and thus absorb the 
moisture which would otherwise result in aggra- 
vated cases of cold feet. For this particular prod- 
uct I substituted a type of breakfast food of my 
own invention called "wheat whiskers" which comes 



* As guest of King Sisawath II in 1908, I was presented with the 
Bkatha or Freedom of the Palace, which was more than I could 
possibly use. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 51 

in compacted cubes of farinaceous filament. These, 
when needed, can be teased out to four times their 
initial bulk. The advantages of this product are 
evident, since it is both excellent boot-packing and 
nourishing food, or, as Frizzie put it "good for 
both hoof and mouth disease." Another dual per- 
sonality in our list of stores was the solid alcohol, 
primarily intended for fuel, but also edible. This 
necessity was under my immediate jurisdiction as 
the responsible head of the party. 

Too much credit can never be given to those 
great American institutions, the 5-and-lO-cent 
stores, from which we were able to obtain at slight 
cost the necessary snow-goggles, ice-picks, cooking 
utensils, etc., which form a part of every expedi- 
tion. From the same source we also purchased a 
sizable number of toys for use in bartering with 
the natives. All these lighter elements of our bag- 
gage were rolled in bolts of mosquito netting in 
the folds of which were packed fly-swatters (two 
per man), bottles of citronella, green fishing- veils, 
and other objects useful in combating the teeming 
insect life which springs into being at the first 
touch of the Arctic sun. 

These, then, were our general stores. Each indi- 
vidual looked after the equipment necessary for his 



52 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

own department. Sections of the Kawa, amid- 
ship, were allotted in alphabetical order, where, 
with a narrow aisle between, were tightly crammed 
Flock's anthropological charts, Miskin's map-card- 
boards, surveying instruments and colored crayons, 
Sloff' s batteries, Wigmore's alpine ice instruments 
(including a horn), Dane's mummy-cases and 
scarabs, Whinney's camera supplies and radio-out- 
fit, and Swank's paints and palettes. Frissell's 
personal impedimenta was unique and had no bear- 
ing whatever upon scientific research. It consisted 
of eighteen different fancy-dress costumes, wrapped 
up in which were a ukelele and six pogo sticks. 
At later intervals he kept producing smaller musi- 
cal instruments, magic egg-cups and other enter- 
taining devices which more than once rescued our 
spirits from the depths of black despair. Triplett 
carried, as usual, only his pouch of extra glass 
eyes and a small, well-worn, black bag which, to 
my certain knowledge, he never opened. I think 
he felt that it gave him dignity and was demanded 
of him, just as baggage is considered necessary by 
some punctilious hotel clerks. Whenever we left 
ship for more than a day, Triplett insisted on carry- 
ing his black bag. He looked as if he were about 
either to embalm a body or tune a piano. I could 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 53 

never quite decide which. One day when he was 
ill, during the latter part of our trip, I peeked in 
the bag. It contained the upper half of a pair of 
pajamas and the photograph of a beautiful, — but 
I feel that respect for the old fellow's romantic 
heart, hidden deep beneath his tough hide, forbids 
me to say more. Somehow that little black bag 
became to me a symbol of its owner, concealing 
beneath its alligator-skin rind the elements of some 
exquisite life-incident ! 



Chapter III 

The choice of a route. Off at last. We take aboard 
a passenger. Seeds of discontent. Into the 
long twilight. Radio reversals. The ice at last. 
Trouble with our water-line. Its happy solution. 



55 



Chapter III 

Those of my readers who have not deserted 
during the cataloguing of our supplies may be inter- 
ested in knowing something of our route. The 
lines of approach to the Pole are, of course, infinite 
in number. Let me illustrate this fact in a simple 
way. 

A direct projection of the northern hemisphere 
would resemble a pie with the Equator at its rim 
and the Pole at its center. Now imagine our pie 
cut into four quarters. We have, obviously, four 
ways to the Pole. But now suppose the arrival of 
unexpected company, four in number ; a less gener- 
ous distribution of our pie becomes necessary. The 
scientific housewife would at once solve the difii- 
culty by cutting the pie on intervening lines. 
We now have eight pieces to our pie and, conse- 
quently, eight ways to our pole. If we have eight 

57 



THE BIG HUNTING 

As soon as the early August frosts warn the Eskimo huntsman 
that winter is nigh, he begins to think about his food-supply. In 
fact this is a thing he thinks about most of the time. Food is the 
paramount consideration in polar-regions. It is the standard of 
value, the source of warmth, the unit of measure it is everything. 

There are in reality but two seasons. Winter and Summer, in the 
regions immediately surrounding the Pole. Hunting is impossible 
in the one because of the intense cold. But between the two periods 
come a few days, a week at most, of intermediate temperature, too 
short to be called Spring or Autumn, but too valuable to be lost. 
It is during these short spells that the native must lay in his winter 
or summer supply of meat, skins, etc. Consequently he is always in 
a hurry. 

The photograph shows Makuik at his favorite sport of seal- 
slaughtering. Dr. Traprock tells us that owing to the amazing 
abundance of game in these remote regions it was possible for the 
mighty hunter to pursue his prey for four days without stopping 
for rest or food save for an occasional hunk of flesh or fat torn 
from one of his victims en passant. 

"Makuik's elation," says the intrepid author, "became almost un- 
pleasant. As the herds of seal, walrus and otary accumulated about 
him their blood seemed to go to his head. Uttering a low crooning 
cry which rose to a wild screech at every thrust of his raktok 
(trident) he leaped about the floe with the soft agility of a Mord- 
kin. An extraordinary sight was to see him hurl his weapon into 
a passing flock of pemmican, spearing a fine bird on each of its 
prongs. But his favorite game was seals because of their compara- 
tive inability to escape and their rich food-value. Incidentally the 
skins would make excellent gifts for his wives during the approach- 
ing Yule-tide season (Kryptok-Boknik-lok or Feast of Food). 
Makuik evidently believed in "doing his Christmas stabbing early." 

At the close of the "big hunting," Makuik had to his credit, besides 
countless other game, four hundred and seventy seals. The photo- 
graph pictures him making three holes in one, a feat which no 
golf-player can ever hope to rival. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 61 

we may have sixteen, if sixteen, thirty-two, and so 
on, by subdivision, to infinity. Q.E.D.* 

The question immediately arose as to which route 
I should select. I decided on the straightest, just 
as I had decided, in Cambridge, to take the Kawa 
to the North Pole instead of the South because it 
was nearer. Obviously I must reach the polar ice- 
pack before making my beeline as my ship was 
adapted for but two elements, ice and water. 
Travel over bare ground was not contemplated. 
Wheels had never entered my head. How nearly 
this fact cost us our lives makes a thrilling story 
but one which comes later. 

Thus, our object was to round Cape Race and 
pick our way through Davis Strait which runs due 
north through Baffin Bay, well beyond the Arctic 
Circle. This is the most direct water route from 
New York. 

Our last glimpse of the homeland was the white 
water over Sow-and-Pigs Ledge off Cuttyhunk, 
from which we set a course North by slightly East 
to pick up the gas-beacon at mouth of St. John's 

* Ekstrom illustrates the same point in his lectures by using a 
cake (usually chocolate) in place of a pie. The objection to this 
method is that the segmental walls have a tendency to crumble, 
confusing the illusion of polar travel. Otherwise his system follows 
mine. W. E. T. 



62 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Harbor. As we swashed along outside of Cutty- 
hunk I saw through my glasses a signal flag waved 
from the piazza of the old fishing club which I 
recalled having visited as a small boy in '88 when 
the last sea-bass was hauled from those waters. A 
moment later a small boat put off from the beach 
near the lighthouse and rowed in our direction. It 
was a hard pull for the sturdy islanders but we 
stood by and finally took their helmsman aboard 
who handed me a letter marked "Rush" which 
proved to be a notice from the Westchester Light- 
ing Company informing me that there was still a 
payment due on my gas range. As I had opened 
this missive in the privacy of my cabin I was able 
to go on deck and tell the messenger, rather curtly, 
that there was "no answer" and the good fellows 
rowed away, giving us a hearty cheer as we turned 
our nose to the open sea. 

St. John's was our first port-of-call for I had to 
redeem my promise to Triplett to pick up the 
woman, "Sausalito," as he called her. I think the 
old man was inspired by the thought of seeing 
her, for he gave us an exhibition of navigation that 
was an eye-opener. After leaving Cuttyhunk we 
ran into a dense fog. For forty-eight hours this 
continued, thick and impenetrable. Once we heard 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 63 

the distant sound of the cod-fishers on the Banks 
singing their morning song — an unspeakable 
chantey about a dissolute person named Mary 
Brown — but we saw no gleam of binnacle, sun 
or shorelight. Yet through this murk, with the 
magnetic pull on our bowsprit tending always to 
veer us from our course, Triplett led us with such 
accuracy that at exactly the appointed time we 
caught the distant flash of the beacon and knew 
that our first leg had been completed. 

My followers knew nothing of my plan to take 
Sausalito aboard and my instructions to Triplett 
were to keep silent. The lady's first appearance 
was not reassuring. She was standing on a dilapi- 
dated pier head, valiantly defending herself from 
volleys of stones hurled by native village lads. 
Crouching behind a rusty try-out kettle she 
responded in kind, directing her missiles with 
vicious speed and accuracy. A curious morning 
picture. 

"That's her," chuckled Triplett. "She alius were 
a speritted female." 

The others looked on wonderingly as the Cap- 
tain dropped over the stern into our cockle-boat, 
pulled toward the dock and took the bulky figure 
aboard. 



64 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

"Who the devil is this?" asked Plock, scowling 
darkly, as they neared our counter. 

"My sewing woman," I said briefly. "Lend a 
hand, man." 

He did so with an ill grace, and a moment later 
I saw him whispering to Wigmore and Sloff with 
every evidence of displeasure. I myself was not a 
little upset at the over-exuberance of Triplett's 
manner toward this strange woman. She was a 
dark, unkempt creature with bright gray-blue eyes 
which contrasted strangely with her brown cheeks. 
Her hair, what we could see of it, under her man's 
cap, was nondescript ; teeth irregular. Two extra- 
ordinary qualities, however, she had — a smile which 
vivified her oddness with an unearthly beauty, a 
brilliant, mocking irradiation that made her look 
magically youthful, a crone metamorphosed into a 
little girl, and a voice — O, a mystery of still waters! 
— such a voice! — a deep resonant contralto, at 
once caressing and vibrant, with strange breaks and 
husky notes, melting softnesses and brazen clangor ! 
The Captain was delighted with the reunion. 

"My leetle apple!" he cried, patting her, and, 
indeed, the term was not inexact as her dusky 
cheeks flashed with pleasure 'neath his great 
paws. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 65 

"How you've grown, Ezra!" she laughed, point- 
ing to his capacious girth. 

*'Ain't I, though," he assented; "mostly 'round 
the water-line!" 

I felt that it was time I intervened. 

"Gentlemen," I said to the group which had 
gathered in the waist, "this is Mrs. Sausahto, our 
sewing woman. ..." 

Then Triplett fairly spiked my guns by add- 
ing,— 

"And my wife!" 

I could have killed the old fool! I hustled them 
both below and turned back to face an indignant 
ship's company. 

Plock bustled up officiously. "See here. Trap- 
rock," he blustered, "we don't like this. You 
know. ..." 

"STOP!" I commanded in a voice that shook 
the Kawa to the place where her keel would have 
been had she had one. "To begin with, I want you, 
Plock, to know that I am not 'Traprock' to you 
or to any one else. I am 'Doctor Traprock, Sir^ 
— do you understand?" 

Plock growled an uneasy assent as I continued. 

"I know perfectly well what is in your minds, 
namely, that the understanding was that there 



66 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

should be no wives on this voyage. This Sausalito 
woman was engaged by me as seamstress. If she 
is Triplett's wife, as he says, it is news to me. In 
any case I want it thoroughly understood that I 
am Boss on this ship. To your posts! Ready- 
about to wear ship. Triplett, take the helm." (He 
had come smirking out of the cabin.) 

With surly "Aye, aye, sirs," they took up their 
duties, as I struck sharply on the table-bell which 
was screwed to the combing, the faithful Tatbury 
began its revolutions and once more the little 
Kawa slid gracefully through the long Atlantic 
swells. 

It was a magnificent day but I was frankly de- 
pressed. Already a cloud of discord had arisen in 
the ranks. Already an ominous rift had opened. 
What might happen in the future only the future 
could tell. I was filled with disquieting memories 
of what had occurred to other Arctic explorers 
whose cohorts had been split by dissension and 
bitterness. I knew full well how they had sep- 
arated, sometimes to perish under the very shadow 
of the Pole itself, sometimes to fight their way 
back to civilization in broken fragments which 
spent the remainder of their lives in vilifying each 
other. Little did I realize how much more tragic 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 67 

was to be the outcome of this apparently trivial 
incident. 

In the meantime I was lulled into false security. 
Two weeks of glorious weather made our progress 
exceed even my sanguine schedules. Once clear of 
Cape Race our course lay almost due north and 
the full force of the magnetic pull on our bowsprit 
could be utilized. To this we added, in favoring 
weather, a mainsail forward and a jigger aft so 
that we were able to conserve our fuel supply most 
satisfactorily. 

Our trip through Davis Strait into Baffin Bay 
was a sight-seeing trip new to most of my men and 
I was glad to be able to point out to them the 
objects of interest along either shore, on the left 
the cozy English hamlets of Mugford, Chisling- 
hurst-on-Trent and Philpot Island, on the right the 
quaint Greendlandic fishing villages of Fiskernoes, 
Svartenhunk and Siikkertoppen, names eloquent of 
their respective origins. 

The days grew steadily longer. We were ap- 
proaching the long twilight. On a memorable 
Tuesday in June we crossed the Arctic Circle. 
This is always an exciting event but particularly 
so for those who experience it for the first time. 
Needless to say, we observed the ritual honored by 



68 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

mariners the world over. This follows closely the 
ceremony celebrated in the tropics when "crossing 
the line," with the variation that, instead of Nep- 
tune coming aboard, the aquatic visitor is the North 
King, a snowy potentate who is received with due 
honor by all the ship's company, especially the 
novices, who are forced to bring him presents and 
perform tricks at his behest. We hove-to in a 
narrow inlet on the Baffin shore known by the 
romantic name of Petty's Bight, where we spent 
a blithe two hours. Triplett played the kingly role 
while I acted as master of ceremonies. I must 
admit that this did not tend to calm the somewhat 
ruffled feelings of my following but it made a 
merry interlude in our routine. 

During the long evenings Sausalito, laying aside 
her busy needle, would read to us books from her 
own Hbrary, "The Sheik" and the works of Ethel 
Dell, Harold Bell Wright and the Johnstons, Sir 
Harry and Owen. It was surprising how enter- 
taining these things became to our little isolated 
band. Often after a particularly serious page the 
reader's sunlike smile would flood the main-deck 
and the whole company would burst into peals of 
laughter; then once more we would sit enthralled. 
It must have been her voice. Frissell, alone. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 69 

absented himself from these readings and sat apart, 
lost in the perusal of *'If Winter Comes" which 
he supposed was a work intended for polar novices. 

At this juncture Whinney was having a most 
annoying time with his radio outfit upon which I 
had counted to keep the company amused. The 
best he could get was a series of noises which, in 
themselves, were interesting but scarcely entertain- 
ing. At times the magna-vox or ''loud squeaker" as 
Frissell called it, would emit dismal cat-calls such 
as I have often heard from the upper gallery of 
theatres. 

"That's Arlington!" Whinney would exclaim. 

Again the sound would be that of penny-a-pack 
firecrackers such as one gives to children. 

"Newark is calling us!" Whinney would say 
seriously. "Wait a minute." 

A series of readjustments and Jimmy Valentine 
motions with the combination would result in a 
raucous scraping as if a discouraged Victrola had 
cut its throat. 

"Pittsburgh!" would be the operator's tri- 
umphant comment. "Wait a minute!" 

We waited many a minute and hour, patiently 
expectant, but nothing happened. The most try- 
ing thing was Whinney's explanation. He would 



THE TWO BEARS 

Ikik is solemn. Ikik is offended. Her tender heart is roused. 
Why? In the answer lies the story of one of the most charming 
incidents of the Kawa's entire polar-cruise. In another picture the 
reader will see Makuik descending with murderous intent, on the 
back of a large polar-bear. Shortly after the kill it was dis- 
covered that this bear had just become a mother. Her offspring 
— there was but one — was immediately adopted by Ikik. Mother- 
love, which flourishes even in the high latitudes, surrounded the little 
cub with every protection. First reared as a bottle-bear, the bearlet 
passed safely through the teething period and soon became the regu- 
lar attendant of his foster-mother who fed him solicitously at every 
meal. 

It was this devotion which brought about the disturbance recorded 
by the camera. Warburton Plock seems to have developed an 
insatiable fondness for toasted-blubber. Not content with his own 
share he resorted to the cowardly practice of prigging from Toktok, 
as this ursus minimus was called. His method was characteristic 
of the man, combining cunning with greed. Having privately con- 
structed a small cube of wood corresponding in size to the usual 
blubber-portion he would attract Toktok's attention and ostenta- 
tiously bury the decoy in the snow at some distance from the actual 
feeding ground. Then, while the little chap was busily digging for 
the supposed dainty Plock would swipe the real blubber which 
Makuik distributed with an impartial hand. 

Ikik was no match in logic for the wily scientist. 

"You are robbing my baby!" she wailed in the present instance. 

"Yes," agreed Plock, "and your baby is under the impression 
that he is robbing me." 

Needless to say Dr. Traprock settled this matter in his own direct 
fashion. As he said in conversation with the writer, "It is impossible 
to argue with such fellows. The only practical thing is to crown 
them." 




The Two Bears 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 73 

fix us mournfully with his brown eyes, while at the 
same time trying to fix the machine and say 
solemnly : 

"The length of the antennae is in direct relation 
to the wave length of the tuner. At the same time 
the vacuum tubes must be connected with or, at 
least, related by oscillation to the tuning circuit. 
When a ship is in motion the undue number of 
electric ^strays' disturbs the delicate filaments of 
the tickler and absolutely wrecks the radio activity." 

"I had one of those Radio-Rex things," cried 
Swank. "My sweetie gave it to me for Xmas." 

"I suppose you gave her a tickler," rumbled 
Triplett. 

The whole business vastly amused the old salt. 
He could see nothing but foolishness in Whinney's 
maneuvers, "trying to git God-a'mighty on the 
'phone," as he put it. 

But the attempts whiled away many an idle 
moment, and day by day we were passing land- 
marks which told me clearly that our goal was 
nearer. The water became steadily colder, a fact 
which we verified by the usual scientific method of 
dipping out pailfuls from time to time and taking 
their temperature with a bath thermometer. 

At the northern end of Kane Basin where Green- 



74 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

land makes out toward Ellesmere and Grant Land 
we began to encounter ice. My readers can per- 
haps imagine the thrill which was mine when I first 
heard the soft scrape of frozen lips against the 
Kawa's silky skin! 

Ice at last ! Ice ! the vaunted terror of the north ! 
Leaning over the garboard streak I watched 
anxiously to see how our gallant carrier would take 
to the element for which she was designed. It 
was a magical performance and a warm glow of 
satisfaction suffused my heart as I noted how she 
slipped through the glazed surface. Far beyond 
in the northern sky gleamed the "ice blink," that 
luminous brightness which told of frozen fields and 
floes in the great beyond. We could feel the chiU 
of their vast bulk as we sat on deck of an evening. 

We were now at the 82nd parallel and were 
passing through what is known as mulch ice, which 
is of about the same consistency and saltiness as 
ordinary brine. Wigmore made a number of inter- 
esting experiments with a small freezer, using corn 
starch and condensed milk from his own equipment 
and was able to produce a fair quality of ice cream 
which had a slightly oily flavor doubtless due to the 
presence of seals. From then on the ice developed 
into what is called squidge-ice, thicker and more 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 75 

lumpy than mulch, but still navigable. This, how- 
ever, soon became a solid sheet, from four to ten 
inches in thickness, the Kawa's progress became 
slower and with something like acute anxiety I 
requested Whinney to switch on the thermal water 
line. 

The effect surprised even Whinney whose inven- 
tive imagination had proven itself capable of fore- 
seeing almost anything which might happen and 
many which might not. We were instantly sur- 
rounded by a dense fog of our own making ! 

The ice edges of the squidge coming in contact 
with the candescent copper vaporized immediately 
and the atmosphere on board became that of a 
Turkish steam-room. As is often the case it was 
not so much the heat as the humidity.* Our cloth- 
ing was wringing wet and we were perspiring at 
every pore. It was easy to see what the fatal result 
would be when we shut off the electric spark and 
exposed our wide-open pores to the icy breath of 
the north. Pneimionia and consumption, if not 
worse, were almost certain. 

Ordering all hands below for a rub-down we 

* In Taupol, the southernmost of the Maladive Islands, I lived 
for three months in a similar climate without injurious results but 
it must be borne in mind that I wore only a one-piece suit of Khitra 
(gobang leaves). T. 



76 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

came to a stand-still and for two days did nothing 
more than maintain our position by quarter-speed 
revolutions of the Tutbury. At the end of that 
time Whinney emerged from the main hatch, where 
he had been incubating his ideas, with a look of 
suppressed elation which told me that he had found 
a solution of our difficulty. Without a word he 
set about stringing wires from the storage batteries 
to two points on the forward rail on a line with the 
capstan. In less time than it takes to tell it he 
had lashed two electric fans to the projecting sides 
of the guide runners and screwed the wires into 
the poles after which he walked aft and came to 
attention. 

"You may fire when ready, sir," he said, hand- 
at-visor. 

I gave the signal and once more the throb of the 
engines shook our jelly-like sides, once more we 
heard the hiss and crackle of the squidge as it gave 
way before our burning zone but — a new sound! 
We also heard the blended sonority of the two fans 
as they pushed a powerful current of air along our 
water line. Dense and low, the fog streamed past 
us like parted rivers of milk, to rise in soft clouds 
far to the southward. 

A spontaneous cheer burst from my anxious band 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 77 

and we gave Whiimey three times three with a 
right good will. At Triplett's suggestion — for he 
was overjoyed at being able to see where he was 
going — I ordered "half holiday'* and issued five 
plugs of solid alcohol in honor of our resumed 
motion. It was a happy evening we spent in the 
little cabin, Triplett, Sausalito and I, while the 
others sat on deck in the pale sunlight, crooning 
the old song which has been sung by polar ex- 
plorers since viking days, "Nordenskold ! Nor- 
denskold! Tilig am poel."* 

Triplett's adjustable yardarm which controlled 
our conviviality was occasionally shifted to keep 
the low circling sun directly over it and many a 
toast was eaten as the cheery plug passed round. 
My last conscious memory after my fifth quid, 
was the sound of Frisseirs ukelele above my head 
and beside me the unabashed endearments of Trip- 
lett talking to his "apple.'' 

♦ "Nortliland ! Northland ! I for you am." Undoubtedly the frag- 
ment of an old Saga of Icelandic origin. A modern musical deriva- 
tive was once popular in American folk song with the refrain, "Hip, 
Hooray, we're off for Baffin's Bay, etc." See W. J. Krehbiel's "Gems 
of Greenland," pp. 94-96. 



Chapter IV 

We reach the polar cap. The strange incident of 
the missing Orders, Who stole the papers? 
The Arctic summer, A sportsman's Paradise, 
Notes from my journal, Whinney's sad ex- 
perience,^ 



79 



Chapter IV 

"Men, it is the Ice." 

These words rang with a portentous solemnity 
as I delivered them to the entire ship's company. 

We had reached the solid floe. About us, white 
and interminable, stretched the polar pack, with 
here and there inky streaks, the open "leads" which 
often yawn between the very feet of unwary 
travellers. But for us, the way lay straight. Glanc- 
ing at the compass and adjusting my gesture par- 
allel to its needle, I pointed. 

"Yonder lies the Pole!" 

The seriousness of the moment imposed a silence 
broken only by the screams of distant flocks of 
pemmican and the yooping of seals — for we were 
in the land of prolific game. The second leg of 
our journey was accomplished. The great test still 
remained, the long tug over the rough floor to the 
Main Post itself. 

"Men of the Traprock Expedition," I continued, 

6 81 



THE NINE O'CLOCK BOTTLE 

Here we have a typical scene in Camp Traprock during the late 
days of the Arctic-Indian-Summer. Bartholomew Dane, the Egypt- 
ologist and Sausalito are busily engaged nursing the expeditionary 
mascot, Toktok, a tiny bear-cub which was adopted by Ikik after 
the demise of its parent. The picture can give no idea of the pains- 
taking care which was lavished upon the little pet. As in the case 
of many infants it was extremely difficult to find a food upon which 
he would gain his orthodox ounce a day. Various forms of nourish- 
ment were tried, the happy formula being finally found in a four- 
ounce bottle administered every four hours, the meal consisting of 
modified whale's-milk to which was added minute particles of 
"wheat-whiskers," a cereal-diluent to the perfection of which Dr. 
Traprock has devoted many years of study. 

Ikik, to whom credit must be given for the capture of the cub, 
was hopelessly ignorant of how it should be cared for. Her idea 
was that common to most primitive mothers, namely, that the infant 
should be immediately put upon a meat or fat diet. The result of 
this treatment was loss of weight and incessant crying on the part 
of Toktok. Fortunately the ship's library contained a copy of 
Holt's "Care and Feeding of Infants," a book which Dr. Traprock 
says he never feels safe without. 

Both Dane and Sausalito are wearing the summer costumes which 
are practically a necessity during the heated term. Dane's tropic 
helmet with its deeply overhanging cornice undoubtedly saved him 
from the dreaded snow-blindness which so fatally attacked his 
companion Whinney. The attractive dress worn by Sausalito is 
part of a wardrobe assembled by her as she passed through Canada 
on her way to join the expedition. The fur-edged chemisette and 
roll-down buskins are similar to the parade uniform of the O'Howese 
Toboggan Club. 







The Nine O' Clock Bottle 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 85 

"you have served me long and faithfully. The 
reward of our efforts lies close at hand. Yonder, 
I repeat, lies the Pole. Captain Triplett's last 
observation shows that we are at 86"^ 13' 6V8'^ 
fifteen miles better than all previous records. Nan- 
sen's, Steffanson's and Peary's excepted. We are 
running ahead of schedule time. From now on 
our progress will be slower. But, though we will 
not be dragging light sledges over the ice, remember 
that we carry our base of supplies with us. 'Tis 
an arduous task, lads, but with fair weather and 
good luck we'll win through yet!" 

The cheer which greeted this announcement sur- 
prised me by its feebleness. I had felt that I was 
doing rather well. Plainly a number of voices 
were silent. Puzzled and apprehensive I glanced 
toward my men. Warburton Plock, oily and defer- 
ential, stood slightly in advance of the others. 

"Have you read your orders?" he asked. 

"My orders?" I replied, — "my orders from 
whom?" 

"Your sealed orders," he repeated, smiling 
craftily, "the ones Waxman handed you when we 
left." 

I did not like his tone. I detested the familiar 
way in which he spoke of the aged president of the 



86 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Explorers Union. His manner was that of veiled 
bravado. The air was highly charged as before a 
coming storm. 

"My brief-case . . . cabin . . . Swank. . . . 
Fetch." 

I was excited and spoke monosyllabically, but 
Swank, like a faithful dog, disappeared at the word 
"fetch" down the companion-way. In the interval 
of his absence a thousand black thoughts whirled 
through my brain. These mysterious orders, what 
were they? A plot . . . something was afoot, 
some deadly blow aimed to dash the cup of accom- 
plishment from my grasp as I raised it to my lips. 
To my credit I can say that, even in this agonizing 
moment, I absolved Dr. Waxman of any share in 
this dastardly work. I seemed to see his benevo- 
lent sheep-like face smiling a good-bye, while be- 
fore me, glowered Plock, palpably gloating at my 
discomfiture. But orders were orders and duty was 
duty. Traprock must be true 1 With a hand that 
trembled in spite of my best efforts, I grasped the 
brief case which Swank profiPered and, turning it 
so that all might see, I opened it. 

It was empty! 

I stood like a conjurer surprised by his own 
trick. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 87 

A threatening growl rose from the group huddled 
about Plock who now came forward boldly, his face 
distorted with passion. The mask was off. 

"This is buncomb, Traprock," he shouted. "You 
have done away with those orders! Where are 
they? You know perfectly well that your instruc- 
tions are to ..." 

What he was about to divulge will never be 
known. Whipping up my left arm I caught his 
heel with my right foot and the back of his head 
struck the ice with a crack that roused the distant 
pemmican to renewed screaming.* 

"Stow that dunnage," I said quietly, and the 
limp carcass was tossed aboard where it lolled 
grotesquely over the hatch-combing. 

"To your places, you others . . ." 

A slow, straining heave at the traces brought 
the Kawa up on her guide-runners and she moved 
gracefully across the ice. 

Pondering mournfully on the strange turn of 
events, wondering who could have purloined the 
fateful packet, but taking care to show no exterior 
sign of my perplexity, I trudged on, occasionally 

*The trick is one I learned from an old limehouse "pug" 
whom I befriended in the east-end of London. He could only show 
me his gratitude by teaching me the secrets of his trade, which have 
served me on many an occasion. 



88 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

breaking the silence with a single word of command. 
"Mush." 



Day succeeded day, days scarcely marked by any 
change, and yet there was no sign of the missing 
document. The most rigid search was fruitless and, 
gradually, the incident was forgotten. 

So unbroken was the sunlight that it was only by 
exercising great care in keeping our watches wound 
that we were able to know definitely just what day 
it was. As time wore on, confusion arose. Miskin 
insisted that it was Wednesday, Swank held out for 
Thursday and so on. But it mattered little. They 
were all days of accomplishment and of glorious 
Arctic summer, growing steadily hotter as we 
climbed up the glacial coverlet. We were now 
beyond the latitude of my previous "farthest" (87^ 
2V 22'') which I had reached with the Royal 
Geographic Expedition which met such a tragic 
fate on its return trip to England.* 

The insect pests began to be very troublesome 
and I thanked the high Gods for the green veils and 
mosquito-bars which made life tolerable. A part of 

* The entire party on H.M.S. Daffodil, were sunk by a German 
submarine off St. Jean deLuz. I escaped, having disembarked at 
Brigus, N. F., in order to join my regiment at Derby, Conn. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 89 

every man's equipment was an atomizer containing 
four fluid ounces of oil-of-citronella, and a fly-swat- 
ter attached to his wrist by a thong of reindeer 
sinew.* 

I was amazed at the tropic temperature of these 
high latitudes. At noon the thermometer fre- 
quently stood around 90^ Fahr. in the shade and it 
must be remembered that there was no shade. Our 
thinnest garments were none too comfortable nor 
were we able to say, as is usual, that the nights were 
cool, for again it should be borne in mind that there 
were no nights. Hour after hour the brazen disc 
of the sun circled round the heavens, staring piti- 
lessly at the moon which, strange phenomenon! 
shone palely above the opposite horizon as if the 
two great planets were balancing to partners in a 
stately astronomical dance. 

At definite periods sleep was the order of the 

* The Arctic mosquito differs from his southern brothers, the com- 
mon stegomia muflans, in that he does not strike and get away. Like 
the Canadian "wingle," where he bites he burrows, and that with 
such rapidity that one must be swift of stroke indeed who would 
escape his attack. Within a few seconds he disappears beneath the 
cuticle and dire illness is the result. It is not commonly known but 
I am convinced that the Arctic variety is the carrier of the scurvy 
germ, that dreaded terror of travellers. (See Windenborg's treatise 
"Die Arbeiten Stegomanische und Fleibeiten von dem Nord-deutsches 
Landes," which, while making many absurd claims as to German 
supremacy in polar regions, contains at the same time much solid 
information). T. 



90 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

day, an enforced regulation. During our waking 
hours we struggled on, at times wading through 
mulch and squidge, at times sailing through seas of 
melted ice. Yet, though the sun's rays were hot, 
there still remained the solid pack below, too vast to 
be more than touched on the surface by this fleeting 
summer. 

Though we were surrounded by animal life it 
was much too warm for hunting. In fact the very 
thought of such things as blubber and fur was 
nauseating. Our civilized diet and clothing were 
better suited to our stomachs both inside and out. 
But how quickly the warm polar weather passed 
none knew better than I and from my place in the 
bow I urged my men on until even Swank and 
Whinney cast reproachful glances at me over their 
streaming shoulders. 

"You aren't taking the Kawa to the Pole, she's 
taking you," they complained. 

"Mush," I replied. 

A fact which was the cause of surprised comment 
by several members of the expedition was that we 
had thus far encountered no Eskimos on our 
journey. I confess that I myself was somewhat 
perplexed. In a country in which game abounded it 
seemed strange to find no hunting parties. I could 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 91 

account for this phenomenon by two courses of 
reasoning; either the natives had gone south to 
escape the intolerable weather which we were ex- 
periencing — for it will be remembered that these 
simple folk have practically no way of combating 
heat — or their hunters might possibly have fallen 
victims to the mistake so conmion to nimrods the 
world over, of leading their bands into localities in 
which there was no game whatever. Upon con- 
sideration the latter conclusion seemed the more 
probable for it follows a great general law of 
humanity. Each of my readers doubtless nimibers 
among his acquaintance a sportsman who makes an 
annual pilgrimage into inaccessible regions in 
search of caribou, deer, salmon or big-horn and who 
invariably returns with a tale of disappointment. 
"It has been a very poor year for caribou." "There 
was too Uttle water — or too much.*' These excuses 
are familiar to any one who holds converse with the 
disciples of rifle and rod. 

Our case was different. We were a scientific 
group, not occupied with the capture of animal 
trophies and so we naturally saw a great deal of 
game. 

It is difBcult for me to set down the amazing 
amount of interesting live stock which flourished 



92 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

about us at every stage of our journey. In the 
lower latitudes these were the more familiar cari- 
bou, rabbits, wolves, and deer. 

A sight I shall never forget was one which con- 
fronted us shortly after clearing the westernmost 
point of Wrangel Island. This was in the earlier 
stages of our journey while we still enjoyed a few 
hours of restful darkness. Through the murky 
night I heard a low muttering sound with an oc- 
casional note of complaint or discontent. The noise 
was not single and distinct but vast and widespread 
as if a large area of land had become vocal. "What 
do you suppose is wrong?" I asked Triplett with 
whom I was keeping watch. "There's alius some- 
thin' wrong on Wrangel," said that worthy im- 
perturbably. But I could see that he was interested 
for he kept his good-eye alternately on our compass 
and the dim bulk of land that loomed on our 
quarter. 

Dawn came on apace and a marvellous picture 
lay before us. Far into the interior, or '!.e snowy 
slopes, were millions of reindeer feeding on the 
Christmas trees which do so well in this locality. 
The noise I had heard was the swishing of great 
branches and the guttural grunts of these pictur- 
esque mammals as they devoured their provender. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 93 

Others of my men had stolen on deck and stood 
silently watching. Frissell was greatly excited. 

"Who said there wasn't any Santa Clausl" he 
cried, and at the sound of his voice the huge herd 
tossed its broad-leaved antlers and rushed madly 
toward the distant horizon while Frizzie urged them 
on with cries of "Now, Vixen, now. Dasher!" It 
was an odd but interesting scene. 

The Arctic hares were not as nimierous as I have 
seen them on my previous northern trips and those 
I observed through my glasses were of poor quality 
and sickly physique. Evidently the gradual dying 
out of the lapland lark-spurs, which are the natural 
cover of the hares, has worked havoc among these 
charming creatures.* 

But now, beyond eighty-six, we had left behind 
us these semi-domestic creatures and were among 
the truly Arctic animals, those weird denizens of 
berg and floe which civilization sees only in zoologi- 
cal gardens or vaudeville performances. From my 
station near the lore-peak I swept the horizon 
hourly with my glasses cataloguing the myriad 
species of Arctic life and entering them in my 

* The ever-watchful Canadian game commission has taken up this 
matter (which vitally affects the mitten industry) and is conducting 
at the Govt. Laboratory in Ottawa a series of experiments with 
various hare-restorers. W. B. T. 



INTENSIVE OPTIMISM 

As long as brave deeds are recognized and heroic fortitude re- 
ceives its just due the name of Reginald Whinney will shine forth 
in letters of gold. Reference is made in the text to his tragic attack 
of snow-blindness on the very eve of the arrival of Dr. Traprock 
(and party) at the Pole. This untoward visitation (by which we 
mean Whinney's affliction, not the Traprock Expedition), would in 
itself have been enough to break the heart of any ordinary man, 
but not the heart of a Whinney. To such as he adversity is as the 
sunshine to the flower or the flower to the bee, a new source of 
inspiration and sweetness. 

In the early days of his blindness he was, of course, greatly de- 
pressed. "I am put out but not crushed" was his simple comment. 
Having recourse to his typewriter he recorded that touching para- 
phrase of Milton ending with the line, "They also serve who only 
sit and type." Then came the magnificent "Ode to the Aurora," 
after which the sun of his vision seemed to burst through the walls of 
his temporary night. Full of sparkling wit and joyous laughter he 
fully earned his soubriquet of "Sunbeam-of-the-North." Even before 
breakfast he was mirth personified; in the evening, he was irrepressi- 
ble. The Eskimos found in him a source of inexhaustible wonder. 
To a race living far beyond the sound of a songbird his carollings 
were nothing short of a miracle. 

Dr. Traprock has confessed that at times his friend's gaiety was 
trying. During the frightful sufferings of the return journey, for 
instance, it was upsetting to face starvation and death to the 
accompaniment of "I love a lassie," warbled by the stricken scientist 
from the forepeak. But as the Doctor acutely remarks, •*How 
unjust to condemn a man who was doing the only thing left for 
him to do, namely, trying to cheer us up. Moreover I knew that his 
optimism was but blind. Incessant cheerfulness, when sincere, is 
impossible to stand; I can enjoy it when I know that it masks a 
broken heart." 




Intensive Optimism 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 97 

journal with notes as to quantity, quality and other 
attributes which had a bearing on the commercial or 
scientific value of the type referred to. I can give 
no better idea of this sportsman's paradise than by 
quoting a few extracts from the volume. 

For instance, under date of June 18th, I find the 
following : 

"June 18th. 86' 12' 5\ Bright and fair. Going 
good. For two hours in forenoon passed three 
large seal schools, mainly phoca vitulina and 
mitrata, probably about one thousand per school. 
Each group lay taking its mid-day siesta near the 
open lead with sentinel seals carefully posted at 
regular intervals. They maintained this position 
until we were within approx. 100 yds. when 
they slid noiselessly into the sea where I watched 
them at play for sometime, diving over and under 
each other and emitting their throaty mating cry 
of *Ook, ook.' Peron says (See Mammi-feres, 
Livraison, Sept., 1819, p. 2) that the phoca vitulina 
are monogamous but close observation of a large 
bull seal in the second group convinces me that he 
is in error." 

"June 20th. Slightly cooler, a blessed relief. 
More seals today (Leopardina and Stemmatopus). 
Passed one group at feeding time and watched 



98 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

them chase the smaller otaries into shallow ice pools 
where possession of the fish was disputed by large 
flocks of pemmican. The smaller fragments, otary- 
eyes, fins, etc., were in turn made-off with by snow- 
buntings." 

"June 21st. Climbed to main truck at noon and 
found three pemmican eggs in crow's-nest. Must 
have been laid during rest period. Left them for 
observation and posted order on main and jigger 
to leave nest strictly alone. Whales spouting to 
leeward, evidently genus bone-head, in large 
quantity. Memo. Report to United Corset Mfrs. 
and Umbrella Makers." * 

"June 28th. Showers. Vast quantities of seals 
(Hirsutus) the true fur-bearing or sack seal. 
Called the entire company before the mast and 
warned them against shooting. Rough going today 
over raftered ice. Made only six miles. Mother 
pemmican sitting on crow's-nest. Polar bears be- 
coming more numerous, also large numbers of white 
foxes. Disturbed during rest period by snorting of 

* Since his return to New York, Dr. Traprock has formulated a 
bill to be introduced at the next session of Congress. The bill is 
aimed directly at the Fordney tariflF-schedule, which imposes the 
highest duties on whale-bone since whales were first discovered. 
This, according to Dr. Traprock, is accountable for the corsetless 
flapperism of today. "The higher the whale-bone the lower the 
corset," is his trenchant comment. — Ed. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 99 

walruses. Memo. Look up sealing-wax, source of 
supply, market, etc. Another week should see us 
at the Pole! Hold fast and strike hard." 

The reader can imagine with what difficulty T 
restrained my companions from wholesale slaughter 
of the thousands of friendly creatures among whom 
we were making our slow but steady progress. We 
were individually armed and equipped for any 
event which might befall us, but many considera- 
tions urged me to be firm in this regard and my 
posted notices, "No hunting or fishing under 
penalty of the law," were sternly enforced. Prima- 
rily I wished to save time, knowing full well what 
delay would be caused by the pursuit and what in- 
convenience by the capture of any of the hulking 
carcasses which surrounded us. Secondly I was 
anxious to conserve ammunition for a time when 
it might be needed. Our own food supply was 
ample and it seemed wise to defer experiments with 
eskimo diet until absolutely necessary. 

How fortunate this caution proved will be re- 
lated in its proper place. That we should ever be 
thrown entirely upon our own resources naked and 
stripped in this far land, seemed totally unlikely. 
But who knows the design of an inscrutable pro- 
vidence ! Not I, for one. 



100 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Two days from the Pole a tragic misfortune be- 
fell one of our little group, none other than my 
faithful friend, Reginald Whinney. 

He had come to me in the morning and asked for 
a two hours leave from the traces to take up work 
which he said was more scientific, namely, the study 
of the snow algae which blossomed about us in rare 
profusion. As it was my custom to let my men out 
of harness, two at a time, to pursue their various 
specialties, I readily assented. 

**Whinney, botanist and Dane, Egyptologist, on 
leave" was the order of the day. 

They departed in opposite directions. Scientists 
in general avoid each other's company when mak- 
ing discoveries and these were no exception. It 
was the last Whinney saw of us for many weeks. 

At seven-and-a-half-bells Dane came aboard 
and went below to file his data. Eight-bells 
sounded and still no Whinney. With my glasses I 
scanned the expanse about us. Far away on our 
starboard bow I glimpsed for an instant a moving 
black speck, lost it in the quivering lens, found it 
again and held it. Was it a bear? No, it was too 
black. A seal? — too tall! 

In an instant I had given the order, "Cease 
mushing!" 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 101 

"Swank, Wigmore, come with me. Triplett, 
you are in command." 

We were off in a trice. As we drew near the 
distant figure I saw that it was indeed Whinney. 
But what was he doing? 

He was tottering about in vague circles like a 
man distraught. Just as I came up to him he fell 
forward on his knees with a despairing cry, cover- 
ing his face with his hands. Gently holding him 
by the wrists, I lifted him up ; his arms dropped to 
his side and I knew the awful truth. 

I mentioned, when Whinney left the ship, that 
he would see no more of us for many weeks. It 
was true, for though we could see him, the poor 
fellow could not see us. 

"Blind! Blind!" he shrieked, sinking down in 
despair and beating his head against the ice. 

Again we raised him and, soothing him as best I 
could, I rubbed his inflamed lids with a sharp piece 
of snow crust, a native cure in such cases. But we 
were too late to effect a cure. Wearied by gazing 
at the minute flower-forms of the algae, dazzled by 
the glaring snow crystals, my friend's eyes had 
fallen an easy prey to acute snow-blindness. 

"Let this be a lesson to you, men," I said after 
we had led our patient back to the ship. "If any 



102 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

man, in the future, leaves this deck without his 
goggles, let him take the consequences. This ex- 
pedition cannot be allowed to develop into a game 
of blind man's buff." 

Whinney sat whimpering on the port rail, a 
pathetic sight. Though I spoke sternly I could 
but grieve in my heart for the tragic irony of his 
fate. 

Many brave adventurers have struggled and died 
in vain efforts to reach the top of the world. To 
Reginald Whinney remains the sad distinction of 
being the only man in the world who has been to the 
North Pole and back without seeing itl 



Chapter V 

The last ten miles, A mental observation. We 
lose our magnetic how-sprit. The Big Peg at 
last! ''The Lady, first T We celebrate our 
arrival. I glimpse a vision. 



103 



Chapter V 

July fourth, 1921. 

"Eighty-nine and two tenths!'' said Capt. 
Triplett. 

"Eighty-nine and two tenths," echoed Miskin, 
jotting down the figures. 

Our navigator lowered the astrolabe through 
which he had been peering and folded up his artifi- 
cial horizon. He then figured for a few moments 
on the edge of the taff rail, scrupulously erasing the 
calculation with a combination of saliva and sleeve 
before he announced in his usual formula: 

"She proves. Key-rect as hell." 

I piped down the engines and ordered the com- 
pany abaft. We were working through an open 
lead at the time. 

The moment had come for another important 
announcement. These were of almost daily oc- 
currence at this time, each stage of our journey 
having been marked by the establishment of a 

105 



THE AVOWAL 

It was not to be expected that the temperamental Swank would 
long remain proof against the attractions of the beguiling Klinka 
maidens and here we have evidence of him running true to form, the 
form in this case being that of Kliptok, the youngest of the Mrs. 
Makuiks. The scene is the sub-polar apartment of the Kryptok 
hunter, hewn from the ageless ice. 

Obviously a tender passage is in progress. The jaunty Swank, 
holding in his hand a bunch of lapland-larkspurs, which, it should 
be remarked, were completely out of season at the time, is not only 
saying it with flowers but with all the practised ardor of a grade 
A Romeo. 

"You are the sweetest thing in the world," he whispers. "I have 
never met anyone like you in all my life." 

The child hears and believes. 

"You are so original 1" she murmurs, bending her seal-like ear. 

"And you so aboriginal!" 

"More!" she sighs passionately. 

"Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?" 

At this point, due to the rising temperature, great drops of water 
began to faU from the ice-roof and a harsh command from Makuik 
drove the lovers into the open air. 

In justice to Mr. Swank it should be stated that all wife-wooing 
was conducted with the full knowledge and consent of the husband. 
Makuik's ulterior motive, doubtless, was to secure additional hunters 
for his tribe. Alas, for Swank's romantically planned honeymoon, 
it was doomed to end as so many do, in disappointment. 




The Avowal 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 109 

record for ship travel. It had therefore become my 
custom to call the men together as soon as our posi- 
tion had been officially announced, at which time we 
held a sort of business "causerie," chatted over what 
had been accomplished, discussed the future plans 
and policy of the expedition and so on, much as is 
done today in business organizations whose lack of 
business gives them ample time for such recreations. 

Today, more than ever, I felt the responsibility 
of my position. Having gained in assurance and 
poise by reason of experience at previous meetings, 
my words were terse and well-chosen. 

"Men," I said, "and lady" (bowing to Sausalito, 
who waved a tennis shoe at me), "the end is well 
nigh come. The goal for which we have labored is 
almost in sight. The Pole, reputed inaccessible, is 
at hand. No longer the interminable leagues in- 
tervene. No longer do the long miles stretch be- 
tween us and our object. We have annihilated space 
—and time !" ( Cries of "Hear, Hear I") 

"Men of the Traprock Expedition, tried, true 
and trusty Traprockians, we have almost completed 
our journey, we are nearly there, the long- 
sought " 

A tremendous cheer interrupted me. My com- 
panions were unable to control themselves, and my 



110 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

oratorical intuition told me that it was the moment 
to stop. 

With a sweeping gesture toward the North, I 
shouted the magic monosyllable "Mush!" and sat 
down. 

In polar travel the last ten miles are invariably 
the hardest. One is spent and exhausted. Ice con- 
ditions north of eighty-seven are increasingly dif- 
ficult. Absolutely nothing has been done by either 
Canadian or United States Governments toward 
keeping the national highways in condition. 
Raftered floes, composed of sheets of twenty-foot 
ice, piled up like badly shuffled playing cards, often 
directly oppose one's progress.* 

But all things yield to an iron will. We had not 
come thus far to be thwarted and our nearness to 
success roused me to feverish energy. As I look 
back on that last day I am amazed at some of the 
things we did. 

It has never been my habit to dodge a difficulty 
and true to this principle we made straight at every 
barrier. There was no dodging or deviating. Some 
we climbed, some we tunneled (the Kawa's masts 

* The only highway comparable to the above, in my experience, 
is the main street of Portchester, N. Y., which has been torn up 
since the memory of man. Some of the rocks in the middle of this 
thoroughfare are of volcanic origin. The detours are even worse. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 111 

folded back along her deck), some we blew up, 
though I hesitated to resort to this process for the 
practical reason of wishing to save my ice bombs, 
and the more sentimental dislike of breaking the 
mystic silence of the North with a sound so ex- 
traneous and artificial as that of blasting. 

The northern silence has always seemed so pure 
and chaste that the thought of shattering it was 
extremely repugnant. It was like violating a 
virgin. It was, however, necessary to do this at 
times.* 

Toiling, sweating, cursmg, smging and shouting 
with excitement, we fought our way foot by foot, 
mile by mile, over the rough ice-cap. 

It was marvellous to see how the Kawa behaved, 
how magnificently her pliant flanks adapted them- 
selves to the jagged contours, how intelligently 
and naturally she oozed over and between difficul- 
ties, pressed in here, bulging out there, svelte, seal- 
like and delicious. 

My office was that of general exhorter and en- 
courager. It would never have done for me to 

*The explosive used is a development of Whinney's along sug- 
gestions made by me. I am not at liberty to give the chemical 
formula, but its lines of force are bi-lateral instead of perpendicular 
as is the case with lyddite and the other nitroglycerine derivatives. 
To any one especially interested in ice blasting I shall be pleased to 
furnish additional information. W. E. T. 



112 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

take the lines and do any actual pulling; the men 
would have lost respect for me at once. But I was 
never idle for a moment. Armed with an old riding 
crop, a relic of my days as M.F.H. of the Derby 
Hounds, I circled about my straining comrades, 
shouting encom-agement and occasionally flicking 
them smartly on back and buttock. They re- 
sponded valiantly, though not a few black looks 
were thrown at me. 

At the top of every ice hurdle we stopped to rest 
and I issued extra rations of alcohol plug. It was 
little enough to repay these gallant chaps for their 
exertions and surely this was no time to play the 
niggard with the "A-P" as we called it. Once re- 
freshed, and the ice slide ready, we coasted down 
the northward incline and spun merrily across the 
level floe. 

Late in the day, I called a halt. My comrades, 
somewhat exhausted by their exertions and a little 
affected, perhaps, by my generous distributions of 
A-P, sank on the ice near their traces or crawled up 
on the Kawa's soft counter and fell asleep. 

I was glad of their unconsciousness for I was 
very much excited. We must be nearly there ! 

Before us rose a gentle snow eminence, the merest 
swelling in the white plain, such as would be called 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 113 

a mountain in the middle west.* Beyond this, 
unless I was mistaken, lay the Pole. 

"Triplett," I said excitedly, "can you make a 
quick observation?" 

"Sure," he observed. One glance at the low hang- 
ing sun was enough for my old navigator. Rolling 
back his eyes he looked for a moment into that 
reliable brain of his. I saw that he was taking a 
mental observation! Marvellous man! In breath- 
less silence, I waited. 

"Eighty-nine and — nine tenths," he whispered. 
Sweat stood out on his forehead and rolled in little 
rivers through his corrugations. This sort of thing 
was plainly exhausting. 

Quickly handing him an emergency plug I rose. 

At that moment Warburton Plock came toward 
me. Though I disliked him more than ever, he had 
been deferential and polite since I had faced him 
down in his silly fuss over my orders, so that I 
listened attentively while he spoke. 

"Doctor, with your permission I'm going to un- 
ship the magnetic bowsprit and set it here as a bea- 
con. We must be way above the Magnetic North 

*The lowest mountain in the world is Mt. Clemens, Mich., which 
has an altitude of 6 ft. above lake level. I once climbed it on 
crutches. W. E. T. 

8 



114 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

by now and it is pulling us backward instead of 
forward." 

"Very good," I answered. "Your idea has 
merit." 

He touched his cap pleasantly and went forward. 
I liked the idea of leaving a beacon or cairn. It is 
the proper thing among explorers. Here and there 
we had run across them, an occasional pile of snow, 
topped by a gin bottle enclosing a message from 
some previous expedition, empty containers of 
various sorts whose labels were mute memorials to 
the achievement of the great white race! Walker, 
Haig and Booth, imperishable names these, with a 
solemn splendor when found on the white register 
of the North. 

I watched the work with interest. Plock and 
Miskin were busy at the bow-chains, Swank, Wig- 
more and Frissell prepared the site, hewing out 
rude blocks with their ice picks, while Sausalito 
cackled encouragement. She was knitting a slip-on 
of reindeer yarn. 

Suddenly a shout of dismay rose from under our 
forefoot. I saw Plock and Miskin struggling with 
the bowsprit. Evidently they had completely mis- 
calculated the strength of the magnetic pull. 

"Help!" cried Plock. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 115 

I sprang forward, even as the others threw down 
their picks and dashed toward the bow. 

We were too late. 

Jammed against the side of the ship, his hands 
torn and bleeding Miskin was forced to relinquish 
his grasp. With but the weight of Plock at its butt 
end the long pole shot off at an angle across the 
ice. 

"Leave it gol*' I ordered. 

But Plock was too dazed, too enraged to hear me. 
Fortunately at a distance of two hundred yards his 
head struck a ridge of ice and he keeled over. 

Free of all hindrance, the steel stick bounded off 
with amazing rapidity, leaving a faint trail, straight 
and true to the Magnetic North. I watched it 
through my glasses until it disappeared over the 
horizon to the southwest, — and there it is today, for 
all to see who visit those strange regions, a record 
of the Traprock Expedition placed there by a power 
more mysterious and greater than that of human 
hands. 

Plock was gathered up and the company once 
more assembled. 

This time I wasted no words. "Men, we are 
there. Beyond yonder eminence is the Pole. Ten 
minutes, twenty at most, and then — rest!" 



ABOUT TO BE CAPTURED 

This picture represents what is probably the high-spot in Dr. 
Traprock's absorbing narrative, namely, the moment just before the 
author and his friend Swank burst from their hiding-places and 
captured Ikik, the Klinka maid, who is seen crouching over the bait 
which in this case was the scarlet hunting-coat worn by Dr. Trap- 
rock during many an exciting chase, though none, we venture to say, 
compared to this. Critics of this picture have said that the coat 
seemed unnecessarily voluminous. In explanation it may interest 
our readers to know that at meetings of the Derby Hounds, which 
organization takes its origin from the ancient Epsom Hunts of 
England, the M. F. H. wears the medieval hunting costume, the folds 
of which cover the rider, horse and at times several of the hounds 
as well. The thought of our intrepid friend Traprock thus clad 
in full cry suggests an inspiring sight. He says himself with his 
usual modesty, "The coat has always attracted women, but I ha,ve 
usually been in it." 

Better than words our illustration, snapped by Swank through the 
eye of "Dr. Pease," gives an idea of the simple beauty of the Klinka 
summer-furs. Though she has thrown aside her oomiak she is plainly 
apprehensive. Something is in the air, she knows not what. 

It was Dr. Traprock's intention to capture the maid as politely 
as was consistent with success. After the diving-tackle which he has 
described he had expected to deliver a conciliatory speech beginning, 
"Madame, I assure you my intentions are perfectly honorable." 
Makuik's arrival interrupted this program but we feel that in justice 
to Dr. Traprock his plan should be known lest some of our readers 
assume that he was unnecessarily rough. In the old Norman, 
"Chroniques de la Noblisse," we find significant note referring to 
Jean Marie Piegeroche, an early ancestor of the author. Says the 
historian, "Fort comme la mort, beau comme le soleil, et toujour 
rosse mais pas trop rosse." "Strong as death! Beautiful as the sun, 
rough . . . but not too rough." It is indeed the Doctor, 




About to be Captured 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 119 

With hearty good will they sprang to their po- 
sitions and we shot forward up the gentle grade. 

Exactly twelve minutes later we reached the crest 
and below us, sparkling in the sunlight, stood the 
Pole itself. 



How can I possibly describe the scene and the 
sensations of that inspiring moment? Physically 
the outlook was perhaps unimportant save for a 
feature that set my blood tingling while it stilled 
my heart in reverence. This feature was Peary's 
cairn ! 

It was untouched, unchanged. 

From the moment the object of the Traprock 
Expedition was announced I had been haunted by a 
vague fear that some other group would head 
straight for my goal, dragging with them some 
hapenny-tuppenny ships model wherewith to wither 
my laurels. 

It was not so. ' 

Before us, a few hundred yards distant in the 
center of a shallow bowl stood the rude monu- 
ment of the great Commander, just as he had left it. 
From the summit and flanks of the miniature 
mountain fluttered the tattered ensigns he had 



120 MY NORTHERlSr EXPOSURE 

placed there, our country's flag, the red cross, the 
D.K.E. banner and the others. 

The Stars and Stripes were nailed to a stout spar, 
evidently an extra yard-arm or spare jigger from 
the Roosevelt. This mast still stood, a graphic 
symbol of the Pole itself, as if the giant axis of the 
earth projected beyond its surface. It was slightly 
out of plumb and the wood toward the base was 
somewhat abraded. 

But of the vandalism of late visitants there was 
not a trace. No picnic baskets or discarded lily- 
cups marred the snowy surroundings. No other 
ship, great or small, had made fast to Mother 
Earth's last mooring. 

We rushed toward the spot in belter skelter 
fashion, but ten yards from the cairn a thought, 
almost morbid in its chivalrousness, seized me. 

I must stop this mad rush. 

How? 

Whipping out my Colt I fired three shots in 
quick succession. It was the return-to-the-ship 
signal. The crowd hesitated, irresolute. 

On the instant I dashed ahead and faced about. 

"Gentlemen," I cried, "though thousands of miles 
from home, remember, you are gentlemen. The 
lady, first!" 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 121 

Offering Sausalito my arm we climbed the slope 
together. 

The others arrived en masse. Swank, Plock, 
Sloff, they were all like children playing a game of 
prisoner's base, with the Pole as home. Poor 
Whinney was "it." 

In the excitement of the moment I had forgotten 
him. He was a pitiful spectacle as he came tap- 
tapping his way across the ice, feeling each step with 
his cane. We watched him in silence until I saw 
that he was going to miss the Pole entirely and if 
not stopped would soon be bound south again for an 
indefinite period. Tenderly Sausalito and I led 
him to the cairn while her rich voice murmured 
comfort in his ear. He was beside himself with 
emotion and hot tears kept welling from under his 
goggles. 

"The touch of a woman's hand!" he sobbed, as he 
smoothed mine with his. 

Frissell's arrival was characteristic. He made 
the last sixty yards between the Kawa and the Pole 
on a pogo stick — a new — in fact the only — record 
for an event of this kind. 

Second only to ourselves was the Kawa and will- 
ing hands soon hauled her across the intervening 
distance and made her fast. 



122 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

The great objective of my polar push had been 
gained and with a reverent heart I called the men 
together for short but appropriate ceremonies. 

After a prayer of thanksgiving by Miskin, we 
sang as much of the Star Spangled Banner as we 
could remember and ate a silent toast to the memory 
of great explorers who had come and gone. I then 
made a few appropriate remarks, outlining the 
progress of polar travel from Norse days down to 
the present and we then proceeded to the pictur- 
esque "planting of the flags." It was a charming 
picture in the amber sunlight, not unlike the final 
chorus of some great operatic spectacle in which the 
nations of the earth are gathered together. 

Forming in a circle we marched slowly about the 
cairn singing the ancient song: "Nordenskold— 
Nordenskold — helvig am trein," each man planting 
his flag at the close of a verse, in the order named : 

Traprock, U.S.A., Swank, Sons of American 
Revolution; Whinney, Guidon of the Derby Fen- 
cibles (sometimes called the "Desperate Derbies") ; 
Sausalito, Lucy Stone League; Frissell, Dutch 
Treat Club of New York; Plock, Explorers 
Union; Miskin, National Geographic Society; 
Triplett, New Bedford Chamber of Commerce; 
Sloff, Ass. Astronomers of America; Wigmore, 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 123 

Society for the Preservation of New England An- 
tiquities; Dane, Egypt. 

With the cairn thus gaily decorated and the 
Kawa's full alphabet of signal flags flying fore and 
aft spelling the word "Victory," the formal cere- 
monies were over and I gave the order for complete 
rest, relaxation and enjoyment. 

How thoroughly these instructions were carried 
out may well be imagined. Three days' rations of 
every sort were dragged from the hold and spread 
about us. Without further urging all hands fell to. 
Every man had ^ve A-P's and a bountiful supply 
of potted ham, herring and salt codfish.* This 
somewhat arid diet was washed down with copious 
draughts of melted snow thickened with A-P, and 
the celebration soon attained a terrific muzzle 
velocity. Songs echoed across the surrounding 
plain, merry tales were passed about, tales which 
brought a dull glow to Sausalito's cheeks and 
caused old Triplett to slap his thigh with delight. 

Frissell was a host in himself. He performed 
tricks of magic, imitations and feats of acrobatics 

* These compact and easily carried food stuffs formed a large 
part of our store. With the addition of a little water they increase 
greatly in bulk and nutritive value. The idea came to me when 
stranded for two weeks in the Dry Tortugas, during which time I 
lived entirely on an old carriage sponge which I found on tlie 
beach. W. E. T. 



124 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

and ventriloquism, appearing successively in various 
costumes from his inexhaustible supply. The quiet 
Miskin disclosed an unsuspected social gift and 
lured us into guessing games. 

"What is the distance from Bremen to Hong 
Kong?" 

We were staggered. Miskin, from the store of 
his librarian experience, knew the answer. It was 
dull, but helped to keep the others sober for a few 
extra hours. 

The three days' rations lasted, I think, about one 
full 24-hour day. 

A single unpleasant incident marred the close of 
the entertainment. 

Plock, who was enormously exhilarated, crawled 
toward me and pointed toward the D.K.E. flag 
above us. 

"D.K.E. song," he said thickly. 

I eyed him coldly. 

"I can only sing it with a Brother." 

To my disgust he stretched out a very dirty hand, 
and gave me the grip ! 

"Mew Chapter," he murmured. 

It was revolting. That it should be Plock of all 
others I 

We did the "Band of Brothers" together — ^my 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 125 

oath compelled it — but I have never voiced its lov- 
ing sentiments so half-heartedly. 

Quiet fell at last. So did most of my com- 
panions. One by one they toppled over. Whinney 
was the last to go. It is said that the loss of one 
function strengthens another and I suppose that 
the absence of eyesight gave him staying power. 
But he finally succumbed, smiling happily and 
crooning to himself — "I don't no' whish is, m' I 
blin'-drunk or drunk-bhn' "; and he was gone. 

My last memory is of Frissell saying "my next 
imitation" and then playing "taps" on a mouth 
organ. I knew the impossibility of competing with 
a parlor entertainer. Nothing will quiet such chaps 
but a dead audience. So I rolled over, and slept 
the sleep of a tired but happy explorer. 



What awakened me I cannot say, but I am sure 
that it was something unusual, for my awakening 
was not gradual or difficult. It was the same quick 
instant leap to consciousness as that which rouses 
the suburban wife when she leans across the interim 
between the twin beds and whispers tensely to her 
husband, "Horace, someone is trying to get into 
the dining-room window!" 



SOMETHING NEW IN DRAMATICS 

A happy thought in the formation of the personnel of the Expedi- 
tion was the inclusion of Frissell, the professional entertainer, who 
is here shown playing a leading part in the amateur theatricals 
which it was his delight to organize. The scene chosen for illus- 
tration is the famous shipping episode from "The Taming of the 
Shrew." Reginald Swank, who is no mean dramatic critic, tells us 
that Frissell's "Petruchio" was a spirited performance, while Snak's 
"Katharine" rivalled Ada Rehan at her best. The nautical back- 
ground added a novel touch to the somewhat hackneyed vehicle 
and it is safe to say that Shakespeare is permanently established 
among the Klinka and Kryptok tribes. 

Not content with the success of this production, Frissell plans to 
bring to Broadway a newly organized company, "The Polar 
Players." They will appear in repertoire while the B and C com- 
panies tour the provinces. The Winter Garden has already been 
engaged for the venture, Al Jolson obligingly shifting to the 
Metropolitan Opera House. Tickets for the premiere of this inter- 
esting novelty, which is set for November 1st, may be had by appli- 
cation to any of the well known speculators. Mr. Frissell has 
already shown photographs of some of his best scenes to prominent 
professional critics. A few sample opinions may be of interest. 

George Jean Nathan: "Foreign and therefore good." 

Hey wood Broun: "Lacking in background; we like it." 

Al Woods: "Niftik." 

Dorothy Parker: "I hate actors, but these people are different." 

Frederick O'Brien: "Taupo aloha che." 

The Literary Digest: "Better than the average and more average 
than the best." 

David Belasco: "All to the spot-light." 

Bernard Shaw: "They go further back than Methusaleh." 




Something New in Dramatics 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 129 

I suddenly found myself sitting bolt upright, 
straining my ears through the lightness. 

What was it? 

What uncanny influence had snatched me bodily 
out of the depths of stupor? 

All about me lay my companions. I counted 
them dazedly. Triplett, Sausalito, Swank, — yes, 
they were all there, not one missing. 

"It was nothing" I thought, and stretched my- 
self, preparatory to replacing my aching head in its 
original position. 

And then my hair literally rose on that same head 
and a creeping chill crept up my spine. 

Close at hand, just back of me, rose a soft, ex- 
quisite, purling sound, the sound of a woman's 
laughter! Whirling about I caught a fleeting 
glimpse of her. 

It was just a flash. She was peering over the 
edge of the cairn. The instant my eyes met hers I 
knew that I had seen the most beautiful woman in 
the world! 

Leaping silently to my feet, for I did not wish 
to waken my comrades, I raced toward the cairn. 
As I roimded the curve I heard again that silvery 
laughter, spiced, I thought, with a note of mockery. 

"One second, my beauty!" I muttered, "and I 



130 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

shall have you I" Remember, I had been for months 
in the solitudes. My blood pounded in my temples. 

Sweeping gracefully around the cairn I arrived 
on the opposite side. 

Desolate and empty, the ice bowl curved to its 
rim. 

Not a living soul was in sight. 



Chapter VI 

Fatal procrastination. Our one-dimeiisional po- 
sition. An extraordinary ornithological display, 
I confide in Swank, His plan. I capture 
my vision. The Klinkas, An embarrassing 
incident. 



131 



Chapter VI 

The succeeding days were occupied with the 
business of getting settled. Our eight-day clock 
recorded July 7th before we finally got down to 
work. By throwing up a waist-high wall around 
the base of the cairn we formed a circular dugout 
into which we moved our belongings, a man to each 
segment. Already the weather had begun to mod- 
erate and I found my medium-longs comfortable. 

Sections of our camp were covered with tar- 
paulins and of course we had the Kawa to retire to 
in case of need. A passing shower warned me that 
the short Arctic sunmier was waning but I figured 
that we had ample time to remain at least three 
weeks longer. We had but begun our scientific 
work, our food supply was generously sufficient, 
and moreover, my men had come a long way and 
were entitled to a rest. 

Ah! How vainly does the mind of man delude 
itself with false reasoning. Back in my brain nib- 

133 



134 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

bled the maggot of curiosity. Deep in my man-be- 
ing the age-old impulse lusted for a sight of the 
mysterious ice-maiden. Like the old viking in the 
Saga — ''Moe entilgig sas, moe Tillig as var — " * 
I would have procrastinated forever. As it was my 
delay . . . but I am now getting south of myself. 

Speaking of "getting south" we were in a curious 
position, one previously remarked on, but which has 
received scant attention. I refer to the fact that 
there was left to us but one direction. We had no- 
where to go but south. The idea seemed so fan- 
tastic that I verified it by actual test. The empiric 
is after all the only actual, as Spencer says. Stand- 
ing close together four of us were able to touch 
the Pole with our backs. At a signal we all stepped 
forward five paces. 

We had all gone south! 

And yet, Triplett and I had gone in exactly op- 
posite directions: so had Whinney and Wigmore 
who were assistants. 

There are some things that are beyond the mind 
of man. Whinney said that it was very simple. He 
explained that since it was already possible, in a 



* Literally. "When the wine of his love 
Is the grave of his wit." 
See "The Song of Beer-wolf," trans, by Ola Ramberg. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 135 

three dimensional world, to reduce motion to one 
direction (which is the equivalent of one dimension) 
he was sure that further research would show us the 
way to arrive at a point in which there would be no 
direction at all. 

"How would you get back?" I asked. 

Although nonplussed he started in on a wordy 
explanation in the midst of which I sneaked softly 
away, leaving him still talking under the impres- 
sion that I was at his side. 

My unfortunate friend had taken up writing to 
mitigate his black loneliness and the click of his 
typewriter could be heard at any time. He was 
writing a description of our voyage and it sur- 
prised me to see how much clearer and more inter- 
esting his account became after his eyes were 
stricken and he was obliged to rely for information 
on what was told him rather than on what he had 
seen. It has long been a theory of mine that too 
much actual experience makes a man inarticulate, 
while the reverse is stimulating and beneficial.* A 
realization of the devastating dullness of most polar 
accounts has further confirmed this view. 

In the meantime our serious work was progress- 

* Puvis de Bloue says, in his "Voyages Blageux" (Flammarion ed., 
1918) *'les yeux sont renemie de la verite." 



AFTER THE BATH 

No libel has received wider acceptance than the often made state- 
ment that the Eskimos are an uncleanly people. It is true that 
during the winter season the skin is protected by frequent applica- 
tions of various animal-oils such as seal, walrus, otary, sperm and 
pemmican. Only thus could the skin be protected against the rigors 
of the Polar winter. The usual specification employed by the 
Klinka tribe is as follows: (1) One (1) coat of otary oil thoroughly 
brushed in. When this has dried apply (2) one (1) coat of Makuik- 
mixture (1/3 otary to 2/3 whale, sperm or equal), applied 
hot with a soft tundra sponge or seal-flipper; (3) two (2) coats 
grade A pemmican, applied separately; (4) finish coat of walrus- 
oil rubbed to a high polish. Fastidious individuals frequently add a 
coat of guppy-wax which results in a soft lustrous surface. By 
this method the entire body is hermetically sealed (just as our New 
England forebears used to seal their preserves and jams with 
paraffin) and the skin is kept immaculately clean. 

As soon, however, as the Spring sun has ameliorated the low tem- 
perature the native feels that it is time to slough his oily protec- 
tion. Nature demands that liis pores come up for air. This is 
accomplished by exposure to the sun's rays. The wax and sub- 
strata rapidly liquefy and are easily scraped-off with curved bone 
knives admirably adapted to the work in hand. The natives assist 
each other. One of the pleasantest experiences of Dr. Traprock 
and his men was that of watching a lovely Klinka scraping an ac- 
quaintance, aided by the friendly suggestions of her companions. 

"When the final oil-coat is removed and all pores are wide open the 
body is rolled in clean snow and rubbed vigorously with a dried 
salmon-fin. 

The adjacent photograph shows little Kopek returning in his 
mother's oomiak after his Spring scouring. The snowy whiteness 
of his tender skin is ample proof of the hygienic wisdom of the 
Klinka method. 

Note the iglootinous character of the background. The perforated 
mounds are really hives, the winter quarters of the Poks or Arctic 
snow-bees which lay blue honey in large quantities from June to 
September. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 139 

ing. My plan was to keep one of the men with me, 
giving the others freedom to pursue their respective 
lines of research. This made it possible for me to 
be at home most of the time and so not miss any 
recurrence of the feminine phenomenon I had 
noted. 

After a comfortable breakfast my followers de- 
parted in various directions, each carrying his 
luncheon which Sausalito put up for him. She, by 
the way, had become the uncrowned queen of all 
hearts and I felt more than justified in having ac- 
ceeded to Triplett's sinful wishes. 

Plock found it difficult to make any headway 
with his anthropology because he could discover no 
inhabitants. Up to July 20th, he kept entering 
regularly in his journal: "Density of population 
1/316 to square mile." 

"It hardly seems enough," said Frissell brightly. 

Plock gave him a sour look. 

"I was not speaking of mental density," he said. 

In zoology he was more successful, though he 
complained bitterly that my "no hunting" edict 
cramped his style. 

"You can't study life without taking it," he said. 

I thought he was referring to the magazine. 

"My family have been taking it since Vol. 1, No, 



140 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

1," I retorted, "and you know perfectly well it has 
always been anti-vivisection." 

"Who said anything about vivisection?" he de- 
manded, "though for that matter, that's just one 
of Life's kinks, something that was wished on 'em 
in a will. Let me kill a few animals first, and I'll 
cut 'em up, and maybe eat 'em afterward!" 

He licked his lips greedily. In him, too, dormant 
appetites were stirring, the blood thirst of the tiger ! 
Strange irony, that he should be the first to go. 

Nevertheless he brought in some interesting live 
specimens caught with ingenious snares and traps, 
among other things numerous birds, ptarmigan, 
pelican and pemmican and a pair of polar kittens, 
the young of the Felis-polaris, those quaint cats 
which always point toward the north.* These 
charming creatures soon became our pets and took 
avidly to the condensed milk which Sausalito pre- 
pared for them. 

The pair of nesting pemmican who had pre- 
empted our crow's nest were a source of constant 



*A variant of the always interesting skunk family, distinguished 
by the constant orientation of its physical peculiarity. It is per- 
fectly safe to capture these little fellows from the south. The Arctic 
type has been found as far south as Lake Wayagamac. 

(See "Among the Moufette." J. Pell, Col. CoU., N.Y.) The pair 
captured by Plock had been nullified by the usual method. Author. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 141 

interest. Three magnificent eggs about the size of 
footballs were jealously watched day and night. 
Plock informed us that the young birds might hatch 
any day now and warned us to be ready for inter- 
esting developments. Though I believed him I 
was unprepared for anything as novel as what 
took place. 

Fortunately the event transpired on a Sunday 
— July 23rd to be exact — which was a day of rest. 
We had just finished divine service when Plock 
pointed excitedly toward the main truck. 

"She's going to hatch!" he yelled. 

The mother bird had risen from the nest. Be- 
tween her powerful legs she clutched one of the 
perfect ovates. Circling the Kawa three times she 
uttered a piercing shriek and dropped the egg, 

"Key-ryste!" ejaculated Triplett. 

Plock motioned for silence. 

The egg struck the floe with a deep boom off 
our weather lee and a dense cloud of bright orange 
smoke filled the air in the midst of which we saw 
the fledgling pemmican in full flight, rising to join 
its mother. The male or bull penmiican now added 
himself to the party and together they made off 
to the edge of the ice bowl where the young one 
alighted. 



142 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

"Stand back," warned Plock. "Cover up your 
noses." 

The saffron laying fumes were drifting toward 
us, and their odor was overpowering and indescrib- 
able. Even as I crouched behind our bulwarks I 
thought of my old friend Lucien Sentent, the nasal 
gourmet of Battambang and wished he were with 
us. He could have had my share 1 

Three times this curious phenomenon was re- 
peated and though vastly diverted we were glad 
when it was over. 

Along other lines, Miskin covered a large num- 
ber of cardboards with maps. He was preparing 
a folio, "The Pole and its Environs," he called it. 
A difficulty was that of locating any other point in 
relation to the Pole. Triplett's science could go 
no further than it had. 

"Son," he said to Miskin, who had been anxiously 
asking which direction New York was. "Son, I 
kin tell yer where we be, but not where we ain't." 

So Miskin tried the effect of the Pole in various 
positions on the sheets and said he would fill in the 
details later. 

Swank got some excellent photographs using 
Whinney's camera, some of which are reproduced 
with this book. The views from the Pole itself were 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 143 

particularly interesting, but his best results were 
to come later. 

Wigmore kept adding to his collection of snow 
crystals and algse which he packed carefully in 
cracked ice, while Whinney, even in his darkened 
condition found it possible to tinker with his radio 
outfit. Sloff helped him rig his antennse to the 
Pole itself and we began to get messages with 
increasing clarity. 

Thus it will be seen that all our little band were 
busy and that not an hour was wasted. 

But deep in my heart lurked a determination to 
see again my lady of mystery. As the days length- 
ened to weeks without my having made any prog- 
ress I at last confided in Swank. 

He was incredulous but logical and infinitely 
woman- wise. 

"You were cuckoo," he said. "But if you 
weren't, the only way to get her is to rouse her 
curiosity. Then grab her." 

"How?" I asked. 

He pondered a moment before replying. 

"See those snow men?" 

I nodded. Frissell had occupied his valuable 
time carving effigies for what he called his "Hall 
of Ill-fame, or Northern Musee of the World's 



144 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Worst Worms." — Volstead, Anderson, Dr. Pease, 
John Roach Straton, Anthony Comstock and 
others. While I deprecated his taste I had no 
suspicion how thankful I should be for its results. 

"Here's the idea," Swank continued. "Get 
everybody else out of the way for a whole day, see? 
Then plant a decoy over on the other side of the 
cairn where you saw the woman; something bright 
and snappy in color." 

"My old hunting coat!" I suggested. 

"Just the thing. Then you and I creep into a 
couple of Frizzie's masterpieces, poke out their 
prune-stone eyes and watch." 

"Swank!" I cried, grasping his hand, "you are 
a genius." 

He shrugged his shoulders modestly. 

"In more ways than one," he conceded. 

The plan was simple of execution. My only 
problem was Whinney, Sausalito and Triplett who 
conmionly stuck around home. This I solved by 
sending Sausalito ofiP for a day's picnic with Whin- 
ney so that the Captain followed, as a matter of 
course. Since Reginald had been unable to see 
Sausalito and only heard her vibrant voice, he had 
become dangerously fond of her, a fact which Trip- 
lett's one eye was quick to notice. They, therefore, 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 145 

departed, Sausalito leading Whinney with Triplett 
trailing. The others had gone long ago. Swank 
and I at once began our preparations. 

Twenty feet from the foot of the cairn I spread 
my M.F.H. coat on the snow. Its vivid scarlet 
with the Derby brown collar and turn-back cuffs 
made a vivid spot amid the surrounding whiteness. 
Swank meanwhile was burrowing into the back of 
Dr. Pease. A moment later I was enclosed in 
Volstead, a disguise which I had never thought to 
assume. The air was suffocating inside and to 
fortify myself I nibbled a fragment of A-P with 
ironic appreciation of the contrast between the 
outer man and the inner. Swank, not to be out- 
done, solaced himself with a smoke which must 
surely have irked the cold semblance of the arch 
anti-cigarettist. But I hissed a warning and the 
blue smoke spiral ceased. 

From then on we waited. The time was inter- 
minable. It was probably not more than thirty 
minutes, but it seemed hours. My A-P was 
exhausted and I began to think of quitting. 

Then, with a suddenness that nearly caused me 
to fall through Volstead's abdomen, things began 
to happen. I glanced at Dr. Pease; he was trem- 
bling slightly, or maybe it was my own excitement. 



DINNER IS SERVED 

The closeness of primitive man to the abysmal brute is strik- 
ingly illustrated in the accompanying photograph. Makuik at meal- 
time must surely remind the reader of the Bronx Park Zoo at that 
time which the poet beautifully describes: 

"Between the dark and the daylight, 
When the lions release their lung-power. 
Comes a pause in the day's occupation 
Which is known as the feeding-hour." 

Eskimo diet varies with the season. During the long winter it 
consists mainly of the fatty overcoats worn by seal, walrus and 
otary. Another favorite plate is made, en casserole, with alternate 
layers of whale-blubber and seal-flippers. The result tastes very 
much like stewed tennis-shoes. These wobbly dishes, garnished with 
seal-eyes, are served on squares of hide and are scraped-up with 
flippers or guppy-fins. Both hide and flipper are eaten at the close 
of the meal which eliminates the tedious dish-washing, wiping and 
putting-away of so-called civilized housekeeping. These blubber- 
ous foods supply the calories (about 2000 to the square inch) neces- 
sary to combat the absurd temperature of the winter season. 

When the sun re-appears in the spring and the song of the first 
lapwing is heard, the Eskimo begins to think intently of raw meat. 
"Ukuk matok tomatok," he mutters to himself. "I must have some 
vitamines." 

The scent of a bear two miles to windward crazes the native hunts- 
man and speedUy sets him to sharpening his spears and knives to 
razor-keenness. Yet so strict is his observance of Kryptok law 
that when a kill has been made he will touch no morsel until the 
meat has been divided according to the custom, for the chief the 
sirloins and porterhouses, for the lesser men the second and third 
joints and for the women the ribs, rump, neck and feet or whatever 
else is left. 

According to Makuik bear's-meat is greatly prized because of its 
toughness. It is considered effeminate to eat tender meat. The 
sound of an Eskimo meal is not unlike a Red-Cross bandage-tear- 
ing session. 

A study of the photograph under the microscope clearly shows the 
vitamines winding their curiously spiral course up and down the 
meal. 

The absence of table manners is not remarkable when one con- 
siders the absence of tables. 











Dinner is Served 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 149 

Swiftly and noiselessly a large block of snow 
at the base of the cairn itself moved to one side 
disclosing a laughing face, the same lovely coun- 
tenance upon which I had gazed several weeks 
before. The wearer listened for a full minute with 
bird-like intentness, then leaped lightly out and 
straightened up, a long-limbed, graceful creature 
wearing the conventional summer furs of the 
Northern Eskimo. Her hood was thrown back 
showing a glimpse of entrancing shoulder but what 
dazzled me most were the starry blue eyes, fair skin 
and wealth of molten, golden hair! 

Her first act was to circumnavigate the cairn 
which she did with the same silent rapidity that 
marked her every motion. She then made directly 
for the lure, bending over it, touching it cautiously 
and finally raising it and burying her face in its 
scarlet folds, while her laughs rang out muffled but 
intoxicating. 

This was my chance! 

Bursting through my prison walls I rushed to- 
ward her while Swank, by arrangement, crashed 
out of Pease, darted to the entrance, slid the block 
into place and sat on it. I was upon her before 
she had a chance to move. 

''Akalohr I cried (the Northern dialect for 



150 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

"friend"), as we rolled over and over in the snow. 
My old football training stood me in good stead 
for I had made a perfect diving tackle. Inwardly 
blessing the name of Ted Coy, I pinned the lithe, 
palpitating body to the snow, repeating more ten- 
derly the soft appellation, "Akalohy Akalok/^ 

But my triumph was shortlived. 

For the first time her lips moved and from be- 
tween them burst a wild, frantic cry, strangely 
familiar to my ears. 

"Makuik! Makuik!" 

At the repetition I heard a shriek of pain from 
Swank and glanced over my shoulder in time to 
see him rise in the air. The ice block was shattered 
beneath him and I saw an ugly stub of seal-spear, 
thrust accurately where he had formerly sat. Di- 
rectly back of him leaped an ape-like figure as swart 
and scowhng as a Japanese war mask. He carried 
a terrific weapon, a keen-edged blubber cutter, with 
which he made directly at me. 

At ten paces I recognized him but too late to 
stop the impending blow. Firing over my shoulder, 
a tricky shot at best, I shattered the bone blade 
into a thousand fragments, at the same instant 
jumping to my feet and shouting — "Makuik! 
Tapok!" 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 151 

I had given my name, "Tapok," the Icelandic 
pronunciation, and at the sound he stopped like a 
man shot. 

"Makuik!" I cried again. 

His ferocious scowl faded through stupefaction 
to astonishment and gleeful recognition. 

"Tapok!" he rumbled, spreading his arms wide. 
''Kata pokok Ikik nakatokT 

I regret that I cannot translate his remark which 
was highly improper and referred definitely to the 
woman, Ikik, who stood trembling beside us. She 
had raised her oomiak and now, to hide her blushes, 
folded her glorious hair across her face so that she 
resembled some divine being, half goddess, half 
skye-terrier. Back of the screen I saw her blue 
eyes shining and caught a suppressed gurgle of 
mirth. All, then, was not lost. 

In the meantime the cairn was humming like a 
mighty hive while through a re-opened aperture 
crawled other individuals, first a younger Eskimo, 
a mere striphng, followed by four other Eskimos, 
all radiant blondes. One of them carried a child, 
slung over her shoulder in her oomiak. 

At a command from Makuik, Swank was helped 
to his feet, the spear being extracted from his per- 
son by Snak, a slender maiden with a mischievous 



152 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

smile who deftly poulticed the wound with a hand- 
ful of snow. 

If the reader is astounded at the sudden turn 
of events he can imagine my feeling when my eyes 
rested on Makuik, mighty hunter of the Kryptok 
tribe, whom I had last seen twenty years ago when 
we had fought our way four hundred miles across 
broken ice from Ki, an uncharted speck north of 
Iceland, to Archangel. It is a long story. Suffice 
it to say that I had saved his life twelve times dur- 
ing the trip while he had done nearly as well by 
me. We had sworn eternal blood-brotherhood and 
the word of an Eskimo is as good as his bond; bet- 
ter, in fact. 

The Kryptok tongue came back to me fluently 
and I quickly assembled the family group — for 
such it was — in our dugout where a distribution 
of A-P and such small presents as I could lay 
my hands on transformed what had been two hostile 
camps into one joyous assemblage. 

While the women gurgled their satisfaction over 
their new fly swatters and empty herring boxes, 
vying with each other in their attempts to ease 
Swank's pain, Makuik explained the situation. 

The women were all his wives, fruits of vic- 
torious battle. They were of the Klinka tribe, per- 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 153 

feet blondes, as I have noted. The young man was 
his oldest son by an Iceland mother. 

"Too old. I eat. No good wife . . . good eat," 
he explained frankly. 

The infant was his youngest. There would be 
others. His party had been caught at the Pole by 
an unexpectedly early summer. For protection 
from the heat they had taken to the cairn, there to 
await the winter freeze which would make travel 
comfortable and possible. 

"But why did you hide?" I asked. 

"Me not know," he said, smiling craftily. "You 
have trees." 

"Trees?" I mused, then burst out laughing. Of 
course! He referred to my imperial and goatee, 
which I have worn since my service in the Bodansky 
Zouaves, and which he had never seen ! 

It was as clear as day. 

Chuckling with delight, the old warrior showed 
me over their living quarters while I mar- 
velled at his vigor, preserved in this world of ice. 
The interior of the cairn was astounding. Instead 
of entering a domed chamber, similar to the many 
igloos I have inhabited, we went down, down for 
a surprising distance. The entire habitation was 
hewn from the eternal ice to depths far beyond the 



154 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

reach of sun or storm. It was a three-room-and- 
bath arrangement, the latter consisting of a trough, 
at a shghtly lower level than the main floor, filled 
with lucent seal oil. The rooms were respectively, 
living-room (which also served as kitchen and din- 
ing-room), bedroom, simply furnished with com- 
munity sleeping-bag, etc., and storeroom, piled 
high with blubber, fur-steaks, walrus eyes and other 
Eskimo dainties. The temperature was slightly 
below freezing, a delightful change from the pros- 
trating heat we had been enduring, though I will 
confess that I began to think longingly of mittens 
and bearskins and was glad when we once more 
ascended into warmer atmosphere. 

I reached the surface just in time to meet the 
returning members of my party who, needless to 
say, were faint with astonishment at the change 
in conditions. 

General introductions were in order and a blithe 
evening meal was soon under way. But how differ- 
ent a feast from the man-made orgy that had dis- 
graced our arrival. How completely the presence 
of these gentle savage women had altered the com- 
plexion of our enjoyment. 

Sprawhng about Ikik and Snak, and the other 
three, Yalok, Klikitok and Lapatok (whose babe 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 155 

had been placed in its cold storage niche) , my com- 
panions engaged in all sorts of innocent foolery. 
Though they spoke not a word of each other's 
language a subtle understanding had sprung up 
between them. Was it the common strain of Cau- 
casian blood or simple sex calling to even simpler 
sex? I cannot answer. 

Frissell had produced a lavish supply of toys 
from his pack which made an enormous hit. Ikik 
had a colored doll which she nursed affectingly. 
Lapatok joyfully wound a police rattle, while Snak, 
Klikitok and Yalok sucked rubber teething-rings 
with evident relish. 

Makuik reserved for himself a monkey-on-a- 
stick which he regarded as a sceptre, the mechanism 
of which pleased and mystified him. 

At nine o'clock Whinney announced tri- 
umphantly that his radio was working. He 
switched it on and we listened in awe while a far- 
away voice, introduced as Miss Anita Scatchett of 
the New Jersey State Normal School, told a Bed- 
time story, "How the Animal Crackers Came 
Alive." 

I say "we listened in awe." I must amend that 
statement. For a few moments I was mildly 
impressed. It did seem odd to think of a gentle 



A FAR-OFF FASHION-PLATE 

In the charming scene herewith depicted, Yalok, the beautiful 
Klinka belle, is posing as if she were a mannequin on parade in some 
lovely al presco fete, as indeed she is. The background in itself is 
interesting, showing, at stage right, the Tarpaulin Tea-House erected 
and conducted during the Summer months by Herman Swank, Dr. 
Traprock's artistic fellow-voyager. To this picturesque chalet the 
Eskimo maidens turned with womanly instinct and its accommo- 
dations, limited to two, were in great demand. Mr. Whinney, when 
not entertaining a personal guest, sat outside. But these intimate 
details need not detain us. 

The principal figure is Yalok who, for the purposes of photo- 
graphy, has donned the very latest 1922 Spring-model sports-suit. 
She wears, it will be noted, "a woman's crowning glory" — ^her own 
hair. The other glories are supplied by the hair of various animals 
indigenous to the Arctic. 

Reading from North to South this snappy get-up consists of the 
otary over-smock or slip-in with sliding sleeves of unborn-seal, the 
roomy "roamers" of polar bearskin and the pliant chassures. The 
sleeves, another loose seal effect, modestly cover the entire arm or 
arms and flare back vehemently from the gauntlets, which may be 
eider-down or up. The roamers, again, cut loose from conventional 
lines and melt suavely into the retroussee wading slippers. The 
last mentioned articles are fashioned from the pelt of the Amok, 
which usefully grows hair on both sides of its hide. The fore-and- 
aft apron or windshield is nattily edged with ermine and at the 
back runs smartly into a train. A last-minute accessory is the fly- 
swatter. Dr. Traprock's gift to the lady, which is held at the correct 
angle of 45°. 

More important, however, than mere costume is the art of wearing 
it, an art in which this lovely model is evidently entirely at home. 
Her position is that demanded of a debutante in the most exclusive 
Eskimo society, when she is presented to a distinguished foreigner, 
the head modestly bowed, the eyes downcast, the arms in an allur- 
ing come-and-get-me position and the feet gracefully parted in the 
middle. 

A final touch of chic unreproduceable by photography but which 
has all the allure of a truly Parisian pomboire, is the perfume 
(Eau de Muskox) which adds its ineffable odor to this arctic rose, 
a hovery halo, and exquisite ectoplasm. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 159 

spinster in Newark, thousands of miles away, 
speaking to these children of nature. But as far 
as our guests were concerned, the feature was a 
dud. The subject matter soon began to bore us 
all and we shut it off, to Whinney's disgust. 

A few moments later I rose with a start. Some- 
thing in the air chilled me with horror. Glancing 
toward the horizon I gasped, then quickly caught 
myself. 

The sun was half hidden below the horizon ! The 
light was distinctly dim! 

I thought no one had noticed my involuntary 
start, but Makuik, though seemingly absorbed in 
his monkey, leaned toward me and whispered, 
"Night come." 

Night! My God! It had stolen upon us una- 
ware. We would be caught, trapped in the deadly 
grip of the North King who had claimed so many 
brave men before us. 

The darkened atmosphere suggested but one 
thought. 

"Bed," I said. "Sleep." 

My oblivious companions took it as a signal for 
dispersal. They rose reluctantly. Good-byes were 
said. Noses were rubbed affectionately. 

Then an embarrassing episode took place. 



160 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Makuik, who had marshalled his flock before 
him, suddenly seized the lovely Ikik by the shoulder 
and thrust her into my arms. 

"You take," he said, smiling broadly. "Me 
give." 

Her warm body pressed against me, not unwill- 
ing. It is the Kryptok custom, as usual as giving 
a man a drink. 

Confused and inefficient, I stood there. But my 
perplexity was shattered by another surprise. A 
compact, wiry form hurled itself between us. It 
was Sausalito, her face livid with fury! 

"You let that woman be!" she shrieked, panting, 
glaring. 

Makuik shrugged his shoulders and pushed the 
Eskimo woman roughly toward her fellow wives. 
Then, turning, he glanced contemptuously at Sau- 
salito. 

"No good .... you eat." He leered, swinging 
off toward his sub-cellar. 

"Dog- face!" screamed Sausalito. "Pig's-foot. 

99 
• • • 

Triplett's great hammer fist struck her squarely 
on the jaw and she sank limp in his arms. 

Late that night I lay tossing on my blankets, 
prey to a thousand conflicting emotions, fear, joy. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 161 

and sickening anxiety, beneath which, like the 
burden of a refrain, ran the overwhelming thought : 
"She loves me. Sausahto loves me. What shall 
I do?" 

It was the first time such a proposition had ever 
daunted me. 



Chapter VII 



Still procrastinating. Our pastimes at the Pole. 
An exchange of love-tokens, Ikik's avowal. 
Caught in the embrace of the Aurora. 



163 



Chapter VII 

The longer I live the more of a fatalist I become. 
Looking back on the weeks which followed our 
meeting with Makuik and his family I see myself 
powerless in the grip of a force superior to my 
own. How else can I account for the procrastina- 
tion which, day after day, week after week, held 
me in my perilous location. For that it was perilous 
my brain told me clearly. 

Seven previous trips into the Arctic had taught 
me that its climate could be treacherous as well as 
friendly. If I have seemed to expatiate on the 
tropical warmth of an exceptional summer, the 
hottest on record in the meteorological archives of 
Iceland (which are the oldest in the world), rest 
assured that it is with no wish to encourage ill- 
equipped pleasure-parties to venture forth into 
these icy solitudes. I have been warned by an 
eminent polar authority that it would be dangerous 
and wrong to instill this idea. I thoroughly agree 

165 



A NIMROD OF THE NORTH 

A large volume might be written about this illustration alone. 

Big game hunting, in the last analysis, is usually a feeble sort 
of sport. The stalking of itself is a beneficial form of exercise but 
when at last the two strong brutes, human and animal, stand face 
to face it is an odds-on bet on the human. An express-bullet takes 
little account of hide or hair. Compared with this form of target- 
practice fly-swatting and mosquito-slapping are gallantry itself. 

We may learn something from Makuik, the Kryptok huntsman 
who is seen en face in the act of capturing part of his winter's meat- 
supply in the person of a magnificent specimen of the ursus polaris. 
The method universally employed by the Eskimo is that of the 
surprise-onslaught. Polar bears, for some reason, do not expect to 
be attacked by men from the air. 

Perched on a rocky eyrie the native huntsman warily scans the 
floe for his victim. The path beneath the precipice is baited with 
small cubes of seal and pemmican meat along which the prey is 
led by appetite just as children at birthday parties are led through 
the mazes of a peanut-hunt. When the bear is directly below him, 
the hunter springs silently into the air and descends like a falling 
archangel on the creature's back. A hunter's prowess is measured 
by the height from which he dares to jump. Makuik holds the 
Kryptok record in this event is 40 Kyaks (approximately 520 ft.). 
At the termination of a successful jump the bear breaks the fall 
and the fall not infrequently breaks the bear. But the risk is great 
and in case of a miss the Nimrod becomes forthwith data for the 
actuaries and food for the bear. As in all aerial feats the important 
part is the landing. 

In the incident portrayed the result was the not unusual one of 
a glancing blow. Striking the bear's shoulder Makuik was thrown 
for a loss of seven yards, not, however, before he had pinned one 
of the bear's paws to the ice with his keen-edged ratak. From then 
on the fight was a fierce hand-to-paw affair, one round to a finish 
with the incessant in-fighting, knife against claw, brain against 
brain. 

Makuik won the decision after forty-three minutes of gruelling 
and growling work, not without considerable damage to his person. 
Throughout the battle he consistently placed his knife-thrusts where 
they could later be made into buttonholes by his beautiful wives, 
beginning at the lowest button and working upward to the lapel. 
The bear was thus actually tailored during the process of destruc- 
tion. Forest and Stream please copy. 




A Nimrod of the Korth 



MY ISrORTHERN EXPOSURE 169 

with him. Woe betide the week-end tripper or 
basket-picnicker who fares beyond eighty-six with 
no protection other than a warm sweater and a 
quart thermos of coffee! He is doomed before he 
starts or immediately thereafter. When the short 
summer wanes the thermometer plunges without 
warning to incredible depths and almost certain 
disaster results. 

And yet, knowing these things, I stayed. Dis- 
carding all plans, scrapping all schedules, denying 
all reasons, I delayed, lingered and waited. For 
what? Death, perhaps, but before death. Love I 
Ah, love! love! mad will-o'-the-wisp, flaming with 
tragic intensity in the very core of a berg, 
destroying passion, paralyzing my will-power even 
as the spirit of winter laid his icy hand on my 
shoulder. 

My companions, fatally influenced by my ex- 
ample, were no longer restless but completely satis- 
fied with their surroundings and with the society of 
the Klinka women who, as the light waned and the 
temperature dropped, ventured more and more into 
the open. 

Nowhere in the world will one find such gaiety, 
friendliness, and generosity as among these child- 
like denizens of the North. I do not except even 



170 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

the glorious Filbert Islanders who were my own 
discovery. During many a long twilight I sat with 
Whinney, Triplett and Swank about the Primus 
stove which we now found comfortable, chatting of 
our Polynesian friends and evoking many a tender 
memory. Of all who made that famous cruise only 
our former crew was missing, Thomas, the sailor- 
man whom we left behind. But I could not find 
it in my heart to envy him.* 

Compared with northern tribes all Polynesians 
are slow and lethargic. Nothing could exceed the 
swift grace of these glorious Klinkas, and many a 
day of rare sport we had while there was still light. 
Our contribution to the program usually consisted 
of an American game adapted to local conditions: 
tennis, using the native snowshoes for rackets and 
balls of inflated fish-membrane, or golf over a 
sporty nine-hole course with constantly shifting 
snow-bunkers and water-hazards. This variable 
quality in the links made play extremely interest- 
ing and likewise supplied a much needed alibi for 
our scores. Frissell's inventiveness created extra- 



♦ William Henry Thomas, cook, valet and foremast-hand who 
refused to leave the Islands, where he now rules with the title of 
Filbert the First, under an individual mandate conferred by the 
Paris Conference. See "Cruise of the Kawa," Chap. 9, p. 133. 

W. E. T. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 171 

ordinary good clubs out of parts of our cooking 
utensils lashed to whalebone shafts, with which it 
was no unusual thing to drive upwards of seven 
hundred yards. The idea is covered by patents. 

To my amusement Makuik and his entire family 
were deathly afraid of the pogo-sticks. In their 
simple minds this contrivance was endowed with 
life of its own. When I finally forced one on 
Ikik she planted it fervently on a little cairn where 
it was worshipped as a God. How strangely the 
idea of the totem-pole persists! And speaking of 
poles, no outdoor sport proved more popular than 
tether-ball, with the ball tethered to the Pole 
itself. 

The Eskimos were far from lacking in amuse- 
ments of their own, though these naturally had a 
direct bearing on some ulterior object such as blub- 
ber for food-supply or furs for warmth. It has 
remained for the superior white races to invent 
games which are of no use whatever. 

Time and again Makuik thrilled us by his long 
distance harpooning of seals which now sought the 
floes in large numbers. 

The perfect poise, the powerful thrust, the long 
trajectory and the final, squashing hit just behind 
the ear were enough to excite the envy of an 



172 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Olympic javelin thrower.* The feat was the more 
remarkable when it is considered that a seal's ear 
is on the inside and, therefore, invisible. 

Some of the novices in my party were slightly 
overcome by the mad rush of Makuik's family to- 
ward the stricken carcass from which they tore and 
devoured long strips of blubber, but needless to 
say this was an old story to me. Fresh seal's eyes 
are a coveted tid-bit, and I was much touched when 
Ikik brought me one, warm and quivering, in the 
palm of her hand. It was plainly a love offering 
as I saw when I looked from her eyes to that of 
the seal. One should chew them, not gulp them 
down, in order to get the full flavor which is not 
unlike a Cape Cod oyster, though more salty and 
slightly oily. 

The women were particularly fond of leading 
us on searching parties in quest of seal roe, which 
we found in large quantities in the shallow nests 
lined with the yellow wax which exudes from the 
pores of the mother. Both roe and wax are highly 
prized by the natives who spread them, mixed, on 
squares of seal hide, forming sandwiches. In win- 



* For an interesting account of Eskimo games see the essay by Dr. 
R. Petersen. "In Lintinwinger i Kippenskabssel-skabet i Chris- 
tiania," delivered April 3, 1920. W. E". T. 



MY XORTHERX EXPOSUEE 173 

ter the seal fur is also included on account of the 
extra warmth which is provided.* 

It was a happy thought of mine to present Ikik 
with an enormous church candle which, having been 
blessed, had been presented to me by the Bishop 
Metaxis Polyphlosboios in Constantinople. Ikik 
and I were alone when I offered it, in return for 
the eye she had given me. I wish my readers could 
have seen her divine smile as she touched, smelled 
and finally tasted the white cylinder, which was 
so much more refined than the fresh fat and tallow 
which had been daily pabulum. 

"Tapok, Ataki! Traprock, I adore you!" she 
cried, throwing herself at my feet and chewing the 
uppers of my moccasins, the native expression of 
complete devotion. 

"Enough! ' I murmured, raising her by her hair; 
"here come the others." 

Though my "affaire de coeur" was progressiug 
satisfactorily, I was forced to walk warily. Some 
of my fellows were infernal busy-bodies and Sau- 
saHto, poor wretch, watched over me with furious 
jealousy. 

Innumerable were the diversions of those happy, 

*I tried to eat one of these far-bearing sandwiches in 159S and 
nearlr died laughing. T. 



174 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

happy days, the mad pursuit of an occasional musk- 
ox, of which the women were insanely fond because 
of the perfume derived from its peripatetic gland, 
and the absorbingly interesting observations of the 
Arctic guppys, those unique fish which bear their 
live and full-formed young on the ice without the 
tedious formality of laying an egg. The mother 
guppy immediately eats her offspring and the race 
between her and the Eskimo audience to see which 
could get the most, was not the least amusing phase 
of this quaint accouchement. 

And then the long, twilight evenings, snuggled 
down in the deep furs of our friends, sharing the 
warmth of our tiny Primus under the Kawa's lee, 
crooning our songs, passing our plugs and our gay 
banter. I feel sure than I shall never be nearer 
heaven. 

On an immemorial date, for our watches had long 
ago run down, we sat thus in our little Arctic circle 
listening languidly to a number on Whinney's 
radio, — "What the Sunday Schools of Kansas are 
Doing," I believe it was, — no; "The weather a 
hundred years ago today," that was it, — when I 
suddenly realized that it was dark; not twilight, 
but actually dark! 

Can you realize what that meant to me? Startled, 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 175 

I withdrew my thumb from Ikik's soft lips and 
raised myself on my elbow. About me in the 
gloom were vague bundles, Swank and Yalok, Fris- 
sell and Snak, Whinney and Lapatok, Wigmore 
and Klipitok, Triplett and Sausalito, silent, rap- 
turous, oblivious. But a strange thing was hap- 
pening. 

All about the circumference of the great ice 
bowl, of which we were the center, rose trembling, 
blue flames. I could hear their fluttering hiss and 
crackle. Now they leaped higher, shooting out 
giant arms toward the zenith, waving lambent fin- 
gers, shivering, interlocking, melting. My com- 
panions, aroused, sat up and I could see their 
startled faces lighted by an unearthly light. 

The noise and glare increased. Swishing waves 
of fuchsia-pink swept up the sky; muffled explo- 
sions were followed by writhing snakes of lemon- 
yellow and far-flung globes of purple and crimson 
gleamed in the sky while, directly overhead, mil- 
lions of miles away, the North Star looked down 
indifferently. 

At times the wall of encircling flames, now ap- 
proximately ten miles high, leaped in unison, to a 
diabolical rhythm; again they moved about us in 
procession, gigantic, towering, flapping, hissing. 



AN ARCH ARCHEOLOGIST 

One of the most pathetic figures in the author's startling "expo- 
sure" is that of Bartholomew Dane, the Egyptologist who is here 
shown with Snak, his Klinka assistant, pursuing his specialty of 
comparative archeology. 

A word as to Dane's previous record may bring some information 
to the few Americans who have not made archeology, with emphasis 
on Egyptology, a hobby. Born of Nordic stock (his maternal 
grandmother was one of the Iceland Krakkens), educated in the 
more-than-usually-common schools of South Bend, young Dane 
showed early aptitude in geography, history and kindred studies. 
His passion for research work was early in evidence, his every 
leisure moment being spent in the examination of abandoned cellar- 
holes, cisterns, wells, rubbish-heaps and public dumps. His parents, 
fearful lest their son turn out to be a rag-picker secured for him 
an under-janitorship at the Natural History Museum of New York 
City, doubtless hoping to thereby shift the blame for his develop- 
ment from South Bend to the Metropolis. From then on his rise 
was rapid. Working his way up from the cellar we next hear of him 
as Secretary to Prof. Thurston Mudgett of the Extinct Civiliza- 
tions Dept. His course from there to the Nile delta was clearly 
indicated. 

Six months later the young archeologist disappeared, only to re- 
appear six months later laden with honors conferred by the Egyp- 
tian government, a full-professor in the College of Alexandria, a 
recognized authority abroad belatedly received with equal honors 
at home. His great work on Scarabs among the Arabs is in itself 
an enduring monument. 

What led Dane northward is a mystery. That he hoped to find 
the missing link in the almost completed itinerary of the lost tribes 
of Israel we know. That he failed in this dream is a sad fact. But 
there is solace in the thought that amid the snowy wildernesses of 
the Pole he found in the companionship of the sympathetic Snak 
a love which could never have reached him over the hot sands of 
Sahara. 

Due to overwork, exposure and an unavoidable blow on the head, 
his mind has failed considerably of late but in his lucid moments 
he hints darkly at having made certain interesting discoveries which 
have nothing whatever to do with archeology. His earlier achieve- 
ments, his protracted sojourn in the Tomb of Put, his discovery of the 
Temple of Murad, all these he lightly dismisses. "The first year 
was the pleasantest," he laughs; the rest is silence, and the silence is, 
we trust for this courageous spirit — rest. 



.:■';■:■ ^ JV' 'W^ . ^\ 




An Arch Archeologist 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 179 

whistling, rippling, a night-mare of glorious colors 
which have no names. The very ice below me, 
cracking and groaning, was shot with fiery veins. 

The Eskimos had buried their heads in their 
oomiaks, my companions lay face downward. 

Desperately frightened, I still resolved to face 
the end, to see what my dazed senses told me was 
the final conflagration of the world. 

Staggering to my feet, I glared about me, taking 
in the picture with all its ghastly details, the Pole 
and its flags, the cairn, the Kawa, every block and 
halyard of which was etched on this field of flame. 
How insignificant it all seemed. 

The world had finished its trick ; it was as a tiny 
bead, cast away by the Creator, a cinder in the eye 
of God! 

Suddenly the flames turned incandescently white, 
rushed toward me and, on an overwhelming wave 
of siren wailing, I was swept away, billions of miles 
beyond the Pole-star, to Eternity. . . . 



Ikik was rubbing my forehead with a cool tundra 
sponge and her face above me was that of an 
angel. 

"Did you see?" she asked. "It was beautiful." 



180 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

The Eskimos were discussing the display 
critically. 

"Too green," said Makuik. "No good. Cold 
come." 

Peering through the darkness I saw the dim out- 
line of the Kawa. The Pole stood intact. Nothing 
was harmed, nothing singed. 

The astounding truth burst upon me, astounding 
and important to me though nothing to these ages- 
old Aryans. 

We had been in the exact center of the aurora 
borealis. 

Another milestone for American science! 



Chapter VIII 

The Arctic Night. The temptation of Traprock. 
The pros and cons of falling. We solve an age- 
old riddle. Our Polar Christmas, The love- 
philtre. A bandonment. 



181 



Chapter VIII 

"Eighty-six below," announced Captain Triplett 
the next morning, "an' a fine, starry night." 

Old Ezra was right. Night had fallen while we 
slept. The long Arctic blackness had followed our 
twilight sleep, and we were now in the grip of its 
intense cold. 

How strangely fate works her miracles! But 
for my first glimpse of Ikik and our subsequent 
meeting, we should inevitably have perished, clad 
as we were in our light linen-mesh and flannels. 
But the Eskimos had foreseen our peril and sup- 
plied us with roomy garments from their own 
abundant store. No gift in their possession was 
withheld by these warm-hearted people. Gauntlets, 
socks, boots and great hooded oomiaks were pressed 
upon us in which, as soon as we had become ac- 
customed to their overpowering odor, we were 
extremely comfortable and were able to go about 
during the less severe weather without dan- 

183 



184 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

ger of being frozen unawares, a very real risk for 
the novice.* 

Makuik was insistent that both parties join in 
sharing the protection of his sub-surface home. 

"My meat, yours. . . . my woman, yours. . . . 
you know." 

His words were accompanied by the Kryptok 
sign of blood-brotherhood reserved for members 
of the clan. Were I to divulge it here I should 
some day feel the thrust of Makuik's salmon-spear 
between my shoulder blades. It was a dramatic 
feature of Kryptok ritual that a sin against blood 
brotherhood may only be washed out by the blood 
of the offending brother. 

But though I reahzed the closeness of the tie 
which bound me to this furry friend, though every 
fibre of my being cried out to accept the gift which 
he offered so gladly, a gift which meant warmth, 
happiness, love! — knowing all this, I was firm in 
my refusal. 

In the face of a temptation, the greatest 

* In 1906, off Trollebotn in Helgeland, I saw an inex- 
perienced Niblick fisherman overtaken by a cold snap. He nearly 
froze to death as he was endeavoring to reach our ship (The Prim- 
rose) his motions becoming gradually slower until he finally came 
to a standstill, with one foot raised in act of taking a step. We got 
him aboard with nothing more serious than the loss of one arm which 
broke off as we were lifting him over the side. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 185 

perhaps of my life, I resisted, I fought, I 
struggled. 

My reasons were many and complicated. If they 
were right or not I do not know, but they seemed 
so at the time. 

To begin with I knew in my heart that the be- 
ginning of close clan relations with these magnifi- 
cent Klinkas meant the end of the Traprock Ex- 
pedition! That we should ever again return to 
civilization was absolutely unthinkable. Here, in 
this winter solitude, I saw the first glimmerings of 
the truth over which the scientific world has so long 
puzzled. Here was the answer to the old, old, 
question, "Why do explorers leave home?" Why 
have so many never returned? 

They have been absorbed by, and eventually into, 
one of these magnificent tribes. They have disap- 
peared, or if they have found their way back 
to civilization, having proved failures in their 
new environment, they are tongue-tied, evasive, 
ashamed. 

If I accepted Makuik's hospitality, in full, I 
saw another inevitable result. He would eventually 
have to die at my hands. There is room in a small 
nomadic tribe for but one leader, one "Kalok" or 
"Strong man." This is the ancient law of evolu- 



THE BATTLE ON THE BRINK 

Students of the text of this volume will recall that a distinct 
rivalry existed between two of the principal characters, Sausalito 
and Ikik. The author makes what to us seems a delicate distinc- 
tion regarding the object of this rivalry. "It was," he says, ''not so 
much me as my love." There is something almost astral in this 
subdivision. Be that as it may, a strong feeling of competition 
existed between the two ladies which vented itself in frequent 
passages between them similar to that illustrated. 

In this case the struggle started, as usual, in the most friendly 
manner, its object being the possession of a stub of candle, the last 
of the great dip presented to Ikik by Dr. Traprock. Developing, as 
such things do, from playful wrestling to rough-house, it was not 
long before the Klinka maiden found that she was struggling for 
her life. Sausalito's experience in catch-as-catch-can work, gained 
up and down the Barbary coast, was an equal match for the supple 
strength of her adversary and there is little doubt that the result 
would have been fatal to one or both participants had it not been 
for the timely intervention of Makuik who, seeing how things were 
going and fearing possible damage to one of his favorite wives, 
kicked over the icy stage upon which the drama was being enacted, 
at the same instant throwing the carcass of a bull-seal where it 
would intercept the fall of the contestants. Had it not been for the 
skill of Makuik in throwing the bull we can well imagine what 
would have happened. The animal weighed 220 poks or "meals," 
that is, approximately 2200 lbs., a "meal" being reckoned as 10 lbs. 
of any form of food-supply. 

After the fall described above a temporary truce was patched up 
but the feeling of rivalry remained acute. As the philosophical 
author observes, "Being in love with two women is one thing: being 
loved by them is another." 



IpilfSSSMXyXWiSStij^gg^:^^ 



a\K%T,"Z*^ I:C^ 




"^^ 




■^ 



The Battle on the Brink 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 189 

tion. Bound as I was to Makuik I hesitated to 
take the first step which spelt his doom. 

A final consideration, though not one which bore 
much weight, was that there were not enough Klin- 
kas to go round. I have, perhaps, indicated in my 
previous chapter, that the process of natural selec- 
tion, though far from home, had not ceased to 
operate. The Klinka women, while filled with joy- 
ous camaraderie, clearly had their favorites and the 
pairing which I noted most often was that of Swank 
and Yalok, Frissell and Snak, and Whinney and 
Lapatok. 

Frissell amused Snak immensely with his out- 
landish noises and imitations, and Lapatok, who 
stayed near the cairn more than the others in order 
to care for little Kopek, her boy, found in the now 
helpless Whinney another child upon whom to lav- 
ish her affection. 

Makuik smiled tolerantly at these innocent rela- 
tions. The women were his, when all was said, and 
I have no doubt that had the faintest wave of jeal- 
ousy stirred his primitive heart he would have 
calmed it by the old tribal method of holding the 
offender under water for the few seconds necessary 
to allow the ice-opening to freeze over. 

Unfortunately the other members of the expedi- 



190 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

tion did not accept the situation so calmly. Plock, 
Miskin and Sloff were by no means satisfied with 
an arrangement which so plainly left them out of 
it. Dane was not, by nature a ladies' man, though 
he took the color of the others' mental attitude. 
On numerous occasions I was forced to intervene 
when a sudden minor crisis developed. Miskin took 
umbrage because Snak gave Frissell the largest 
piece of blubber, or some other tom-foolery, and 
before one could stop it the air was hot with sup- 
pressed antipathy. 

This state of affairs frankly worried me and I 
was not anxious to make it worse by accentuating 
it in the intimacies which were bound to develop 
in Makuik's igloo. 

I therefore issued the strictest orders that all my 
men should bunk on the Kawa, a regulation which 
I forced myself to adhere to in spite of the most 
terrific temptations. We had completely over- 
hauled our running gear during the warm weather 
and now found that by running the Tutbury at 
quarter speed, thus charging the batteries, we were 
able to generate just the right amount of heat 
required to keep us comfortable. 

We soon adapted ourselves to our new mode 
of life. All outside thermometers were hung up- 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 191 

side down in order to read properly and whenever 
the temperature was above forty below we sallied 
forth into the night, on pleasure or profit bent. 

An early inspection was made by Miskin, Sloflf 
and myself of the rim of the ice bowl, immediately 
following the stupendous display of the aurora 
boreahs, which had ushered in the winter. Makuik 
accompanied us and it was from the naive com- 
ments of this child of the north that we arrived at 
a solution of a large part of the problems in con- 
nection with this phenomenon. 

As we travelled about the circumference of the 
bowl I was at once struck by a deep trench or moat 
which followed its outline. The sides of this moat, 
which averaged approximately 200 yards in width, 
were glazed with freshly formed ice which appeared 
at first to be black in color. A closer inspection 
showed that this color was derived from a sub-sur- 
face stratum of finely powdered carboniferous 
deposit similar to coal or cinders. At no place 
were we able to reach this deposit owing to the 
shortness of our ice picks, but both Miskin and 
Sloff agreed that the buried material was clearly a 
metallic slag which had been subjected to extreme 
heat. 

It was at this point that Makuik injected his 



192 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

interesting personality into our deliberations. Ob- 
serving our puzzled looks he stooped and gathered 
up a handful of loose snow crystals which he 
thrust into his mouth, at once expelling them with 
a mighty gust of breath. Then he clapped his 
stomach and said — 

"Ice . . . sick . . . so . . . pouf !" another great 
blast. 

My mind flashed back instantly to the claims of 
an old scientist of whom I had heard my friend 
Waxman speak, one John Cleves Symmes. As 
far back as 1819 Symmes had advanced the theory 
that the earth was hollow. His exact statement 
reads "the earth is hollow and habitable within, 
being composed of a number of solid, concentric 
spheres." Unfortunately Symmes was unable to 
travel further north than the site of what is now 
Racine, Wis.,* so that his theory remained only a 
theory and he was eventually laughed out of court. 

Now, over a century later, I was to verify a part 
of his suspicion. That the earth was hollow we 
could not doubt. Subsequent excavations in the 
great polar ditch confirmed what we had begun 

* The Case Harvester Co. has meritoriously placed a monu- 
ment to Symmes on the front lawn of its subsidiary plant, The Belle 
Terre Mfg. Co. The monument consists of a large hollow ball of 
local granite. Keys at res. of John Reid, Jr., Caretaker. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 193 

to realize. The entire section of earth crust at this 
end of the axis was loose! Deep in the bowels of 
Mother Earth still burned the terrific primal 
fires, occasionally venting themselves in some such 
upheaval as we had witnessed. Whinney later cor- 
roborated the findings of Sloff and Miskin regard- 
ing excavated specimens of the slag, namely, that 
they were composed of rhyolite rocks, pulverized 
lime and other building materials plainly produced 
by volcanism. The ceaseless whirl of the earth on 
its axis naturally throws these expanding substances 
toward the Pole until the bung, or world stopper, 
is loosened. As soon as the terrific pressure is 
relieved the ice cap sinks back and the melted snow 
at once seals the circular fissure. 

It is the discovery of such long-sought truths 
as this which more than repays me for the hard- 
ships involved. As I pen these lines I can but 
bow my head in humble thankfulness to Him who 
knew too well to fashion this Earth without a 
safety valve. 

The exact date of this and other discoveries is 
indeterminate. Since the stopping of our chro- 
nometers we had gone mainly by guesswork. I 
was fully aware, from the advent of the polar night, 
that time had slipped on to approximately Sep- 

13 



194 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

tember 20th. Knowing our exact position (Lat. 
90^ Long. 0) it was a simple matter for Triplett 
to re-establish a definite day schedule by the theo- 
dolite-hygrometer method combined with astron- 
omy. The weather was now clear and excellent 
views of the stars were obtainable from any given 
point. Altair, Vega and Betelgeuse were particu- 
larly visible, but Triplett's favorite constellation 
was the Dipper, the handle of which he usually 
triangulated with Gygnus and ourselves. Three 
successive observations gave Saturday, September 
28th as the correct answer and I forthwith posted 
notices of this fact, which was celebrated by a joint 
feast. 

Night, it is said, is the time for reflection and I 
now had ample opportunity for this exercise. Un- 
fortunately for the philosophic calm which might 
have resulted from thought, Ikik, my lovely north- 
ern sweetheart, had other ideas as to the proper 
disposal of the nocturnal hours. The glances which 
she levelled at me across the Primus were, to say 
the least, importunate. Little by little I felt my 
icy resolution thawing beneath her tropic influence. 

It was an odd situation. About me the wastes 
of berg and floe, the mercury skulking in the base- 
ment of the thermometer, while in my heart burned 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 195 

an increasing glow that would not be extinguished. 
Yet I fought on, a St. Anthony of the North. 

Christmas came, as it will even in this distant 
clime. The event was marked by a general celebra- 
tion. As I went about the preparations for the 
feast I little realized how tragically the date was 
to stand out in my memory. 

Morning dawned dark and clear. We used the 
Pole for our tree, having fashioned branches of 
oars, pogo-sticks and other suitable materials. Dur- 
ing what would have been the fore-noon we groped 
our way to the edge of the ice bowl, in groups of 
two or three. I was in one of the groups of two. 
The other half was Ikik. 

Sitting in silence on the edge of the earth crater, 
I mused sadly. How wonderful, I thought, if the 
great safety valve would but open and bear my 
love and me away in its flaming arms. But the 
conflagration was to be of a more human and 
dangerous character. 

"See," whispered the maiden. "I have brought 
my present for you." How like her it was, to steal 
away from the others for this sacred presentation. 
I peered at the object in her hand. It was a small 
sack of translucent fish membrane filled with a 
viscous liquid. 



ODE TO THE AURORA 

No more poignant moment in the history of American literature 
has ever been recorded by the camera than that shown with this 
text which portrays Whinney, the poet-scientist, in the very act of 
creating his immortal poem "Ode to Aurora," which John Farrar, 
the veteran critic, pronounces "the best classic ode ever written north 
of the arctic circle." 

As a poet Whinney resembles Milton, in that he is blind. Though 
this was only a temporary affliction, — snow-blindness, — its immediate 
effects were heartrendingly pathetic. Not only did the unfortunate 
traveller miss seeing the Pole and the polar fireworks but he was 
also forced to master the most diflBlcult of all literary exercises, that 
of operating a typewriter with mittens on. The ancient pastime of 
catching a flea while wearing boxing-gloves is child's-play compared 
with this achievement. Hour after hour, day after day, the per- 
sistent poet practised his sightless-touch system. 

"What does it look like?" he would ask, submitting a page to 
Sausalito who had good-naturedly assumed the duties of nursing- 
secretary. 

"Nothing," would be the invariable reply. 

But with dogged perseverance Whinney struggled on, gaining a 
comma here, and a colon there, until he had mastered his instrument. 
The result all the world knows, — those deathless lines beginning: 

"O Aurora! 

Not only East, but North as well, 
And West! and South! 
Th' extraordinary tidings tell! 
Flash thy bright beams 
And wave thy lambent paws. 
Clap thou thy rays 
In luminous applause." 

For sheer glory of color the description of the aurora which 
forms the main part of the ode has never been equalled. And then 
the solemn close, touching in its modesty. 

"Tell thou the world. 
That it remember shall 
The names of Traprock! 
Whinney! Swank! et al." 

Since returning to this country Mr. Whinney has taken out a 
regular poet's licence and is now turning out verse of the very 
highest standard. 




Jj^^^ 



#r 



Ode to the Aurora 



MY NORTHERX EXPOSURE 199 

/*What is it?" I asked tenderly. 

I could feel her flush against my cheek. 

"Walrus tears." 

"Walrus tears?" Ah, yes, I remembered. Years 
ago an old woman in Bjarkoi had told me that 
the tears of a male walrus if caught fresh, were an 
infallible love potion.* 

"Like Tristan and Isolde," I murmured. She 
shook her head, uncomprehendingly. 

"Drink!" she whispered. 

Smiling at the superstition, yet unwilling, unable, 
in fact, to resist the pleading look in her eyes, I 
loosed the thong and placed the sack to my lips. 

The next instant she was in my arms I 

My brain reeled. The stars danced dizzily over- 
head and were then blotted out. A moment later I 
became aware of a ludicrous and embarrassing 
circumstance. Locked in each other's embrace we 
were shding down the icy incline of the bowl! 

We struck fairly in the midst of a group com- 
posed of Triplett, Makuik and several others who 

*The Walrus's habit of weeping when one of their number 
is captured is one of the most pathetic sights in the world. I once 
caught a small calf in the Greely Straits and was immediately sur- 
roimded by the herd which burst into tears as they rose about me. 
An old bull, who had hooked his tusks over the gunwhale, cried so 
copiously that my kayak was half full of tears which, being ignorant 
of their value, I foolishly gave to the natives. 



200 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

greeted our arrival with roars of laughter ; surely a 
strange ending to a "crise d'amour." 

At four-thirty we lighted our tree and had carols, 
presents and general dancing. At six the feast was 
served, the heaping ice slabs being placed along the 
counter of the Kawa which was decked with her 
full suit of colors and all her extra riding-lights. 
Pemmican, blubber-steak, seal- and walrus-eyes, 
hide-salad and guppy-croquettes were supple- 
mented from our waning stores of biscuit, herring, 
ham, candles and A-P. Even little Kopek was not 
denied a place and sat near his mother sipping a 
soapstone cup of modified whale's milk. 

Swank had compounded a new drink for the 
occasion which he called "Traprock tea," consist- 
ing of A-P shavings dissolved in salad oil with a 
number of live guppys flapping about on the sur- 
face, "to give it animation" as the inventor ex- 
plained. 

The animation was certainly not lacking and the 
fun waxed fast and furious. 

At an earlier date, late in November, an all night 
poker game had been instituted by Wigmore, with 
whom this sport was a ruling passion. Warned by 
me, the participants had signed an agreement to 
quit promptly on the 15th of March, in order to 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 201 

avoid the bickering which might be expected when 
some loser inevitably insisted that they play "just 
a week" or a "month more." The gaming element 
now drifted away, one by one, toward the table 
in the Kawa's cabin. Most of the others had also 
withdrawn into the obscurity. Little Kopek had 
long ago been put to bed. Makuik, I regret to 
say, was helpless. 

It was then that I noticed for the first time the 
absence from my side of Ikik. She had stolen off, 
unobserved. Rising, I lurched steadily around the 
cairn. My head was aching, my heart full of 
unspeakable longing and sorrow. Was it the 
Traprock tea or the love philter? Probably both. 

Resolutely turning my back on the camp I 
walked to the far edge of the ice bowl where I sat 
down. One by one the lights of the celebration 
flickered and went out. I heard the card players 
shouting their maudlin good-nights to each other. 
Once a voice shouted "Traprock!" and, following 
a remark I could not catch, came a burst of coarse 
laughter. Then all was silence. 

An hour later I arose with a slight shiver; it 
was 38 below. Though my hands and feet were 
numb, in my veins throbbed liquid fire. Remorse 
gnawed at my heart. What had I said to Ikik that 



202 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

had turned her from me on this, of all nights, our 
first Christmas together? 

Reaching the side of the Kawa, where all lay 
plunged in slumbers a sudden thrilling resolution 
flooded over me. I must see her! 

I must whisper a tender good-night to the one 
who had grown to mean more to me than all the 
rest of the world. 

Turning abruptly, my brain reeling, I made 
directly for the entrance to the igloo. 

The door-block slid back noiselessly. A moment 
later I stood in the low room, hesitant. The single 
tundra wick gave a dim light through which I saw 
Makuik's beady eyes fixed on me. With a sweep- 
ing gesture he indicated a vacant space in the line 
of deep breathing figures. Then he too sank back 
and instantly began snoring. 

With infinite care I crept over the human 
mounds until I sank into the space Makuik had 
pointed out. 

Touching the figure next me I whispered in the 
lowest of tones. 

"Dear one, I have come to say good-night." 

She turned toward me, her face shadowed in her 
oomiak, soft arms twined stealthily about me as a 
vibrant voice murmured "Walter!" 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 203 

I bounded to my feet with a cry of dismay that 
caused the sleepers to stir uneasily. 

The woman followed me as I hurdled my way to 
the stairway. In the entrance I glanced back for 
a second on a face livid with passion. 

It was the face of Sausalito! 



Chapter IX 

Sausalito's strategy. Orders must he obeyed. We 
turn southward. The parting. Mutiny and 
desertion. In the grip of the Ice King, A 
fight to the finish. Victory. 



205 



Chapter IX 

She came directly to me in the morning. Sleep 
had calmed her somewhat. She was cool, but 
determined. In her hand she held a packet of 
papers, sealed with the seal of the E.U. 

"Your orders," she said briefly and turned to 
leave the cabin. 

"One moment," I said. "You others, kindly 
leave us. Sausalito, remain." 

She sat down limply. 

Plock grinned malevolently as he thumped up 
the companion-way. He knew what was coming, 
the blackguard. 

As I took the packet I saw at a glance that the 
seal had been broken and clumsily repaired. 

Walking to the hatchway I closed it. 

"Where did you get these?" 

"I f — f — found them," she stammered. 

"Sausalito," I said gently, "you lie." 

My tenderness disarmed her. Throwing herself 

207 



A MOMENT MUSICAL 

It is not surprising that Triplett and Traprock were amused by 
the reaction of Yalok, the Klinka maiden, to the miracle of the 
radio. The author tells us that the "morceau" picked-up at the mo- 
ment this photograph was taken was a harmonica-solo by F. P. 
Adams of New York. Mr. Adams holds all records for plain and 
fancy harmonica-work, triple-tonguing, echo-effects, vox-humana and 
choir-invisible. The maestro was accompanied at Newark, by D. T. 
Smeed on the pianoforte. Had the great artists known the joy 
they were bringing to the far-off ice-maiden, while they could not 
have put their backs into their work more thoroughly, they would 
doubtless have felt more amply repaid than they did when they 
left the offices of the Westinghouse Company. 

The number tried and rendered on this particular occasion was 
Tristan's song from Der Erl-Koenig, the immortal lyric beginning: 

"Childe Hassam to a dark tower came," and ending with that 
pathetic musical fiasco 

"Placing the slughorn to his lips, — 
He blew!" 

The hitherto-unheard and unheard-of sound of a B flat slughorn, 
reaching into these frozen fastnesses, stirred the very depths of the 
Eskimo auditor, while the white strangers, unconscious of the emo- 
tional tumult they had aroused, assisted by Messrs. Adams and 
Smeed, laughed uproariously at the scene. Dr. Traprock's demeanor, 
especiaUy, is positively mephistophelian. Can it be that he thinks 
of playing the satanic r61e to Triplett's Faust? 

Dr. Traprock assures us that we are too imaginative. "It was 
a glorious performance"; he says: "Long may its frozen echoes hover 
'round the Pole, to thaw out in successive Springs as the years roll 
on. I shall not be there to hear them but I shall be happy to think 
that they persist." 




A Moment Musical 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 211 

on her knees she burst into a flood of hysterical 
weeping. 

"No, no!" she wailed. "I found them. I was 
putting your brief-case in order, and then my 
curiosity got the better of me and I opened them. 
But read, read!" 

Obeying her injunction I unfolded the papers, 
and sat back, thunderstruck. The orders were 
brevity itself. They said simply. "Sail south, at 
once." My face must have expressed my bewilder- 
ment for she continued. "You see! You see! the 
moment I read them I knew these orders were a 
plot, a plot to make you turn back, a plot to dis- 
credit . . . the man ... I love." 

Her voice sank to a low moan and her shoulders 
were again racked by sobs. I saw it all now. Con- 
sumed by jealousy, knowing the contents of the 
papers, she had withheld them until her woman's 
nature could stand no more. In the dim light of 
the cabin, her face transfigured with tenderness, 
she was actually beautiful. 

I raised her gently from the floor. "That will 
do," I said. 

"I am sorry . . . sorry," she moaned. 

I pointed to the companionway and she went out 
silently. 



212 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

In the quarter hour which followed I wrestled 
with a temptation more terrible than any trial of 
the flesh, the trial of my honor. Once, my hand, 
holding the orders, stretched toward the cabin 
lamp ; a few ashes, and all would be solved. Then 
I hastily drew back as if the flame had scorched 
my soul. When I finally arose, spent and trem- 
bhng, I could proclaim myself the victor. 

"Traprock must be true," I muttered. Then 
striding to the hatchway I threw it open and 
stepped on deck. 

"All hands aboard to receive orders," I bellowed. 

Amid confused murmurs the company as- 
sembled. 

"Sick?" asked Captain Triplett peering at my 
white face. 

"No; well," I answered. "Men, stow your dun- 
nage at once. We leave in four hours for New 
York." 

Makuik was surprised, but, I think, not dis- 
pleased to see us depart. Though imperturbable, 
he had felt the responsibility of so large a tribe. 
His own way lay toward Iceland, via Ginnunagap 
and Nivlheim. Perhaps he felt that as the spring 
hunting-season opened his movements would be 
hampered. He must soon be on the march in order 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 213 

to reach his destination over the solid ice before he 
was cut off in the land of enemy tribes from whom 
he had ravished their loveliest possessions. 

At any rate he worked with a will to speed our 
departure. Though he must surely have counted on 
the probability of none of us ever reaching safety 
he remained generous, bright and smiling to the 
last, insisting on dividing what remained of his food 
supply and heaping a monumental pile of oomiaks, 
spears and other equipment on the Kawa's deck. 

When we had turned our little craft about and 
cast off our moorings I stepped into the space 
between the two parties. It was a trying moment. 
I had prepared a short speech for the occasion but 
found I could not trust myself to deliver it. 

Advancing toward Makuik I silently gave the 
Kryptok brotherhood sign, which he returned. I 
had not seen Ikik since the previous evening but 
I now perceived her in the background and noticed 
that wise old Makuik had made fast one of her 
ankles to a large block of ice. 

Approaching her quietly I hung an oil skin 
tobacco pouch about her neck. It contained a 
book-plate bearing the Traprock arms * and the 

* A cerf- volant, argent, springing over a barbican, on a field, or. 
The whole surrounded by a garter. See Peluchet, Hist, des Armoires. 



214 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

device "Traprock must be true." On the back of 
this I had written, in Khnka script, "I could not 
love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more." 
Bhnded with tears, I turned and for the first 
time in many blissful weeks, gave the old, old, com- 
mand, "Mush!" 

• •••••• 

On February twelfth, we had reached eighty- 
five. Progress in the cold and dark was infinitely 
slower than it had been during the warm northward 
journey. The absence of mosquitoes was a com- 
pensation but on the whole travel was much more 
arduous. The mean temperature from Jan. 1st to 
Feb. 10th was 68^ below, the meanest I have ever 
encountered. 

But I was in no hurry. We were very comforta- 
ble on our admirable craft and a careful reckoning 
of supplies gave me no cause for alarm. According 
to my list, we should be able to hold out for another 
year if worst came to worst. 

It came to worse than that. 

My rude awakening came on February 17th. 

It had been a wretched day with alternating snow 
and blizzard gales. The thermometers had gone 
their limit (100 below) and would have gone 
further if they had been longer. Cooped up in the 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 215 

cabin, worn with toil, frazzled with the bickering 
of the card players to whom I had given one week 
of grace for final rounds of roodles, my nerves were 
taut and jumpy. I ordered Swank to step aft and 
fetch me a plug of A-P. He was gone an uncon- 
scionable time and when he returned his face was 
blanched with terror. 

*'The bin's empty, Sir," he reported. 

Empty! 

I stared at him in amazement. Far into the night 
I went over my bills of lading promising myself a 
thorough stock-taking in the morning. 

But the disaffected element on board were ahead 
of me. When I came on deck the following day, 
they were grouped in the waist of the ship. The 
only greeting I got was black looks. Bulky haver- 
sacks and walking gear lay piled behind them. 
Plock stepped forward and began speaking nerv- 
ously and rapidly. 

"Traprock," he said, "this is where we quit. 
We've had enough of your damned seal-skin ship 
and your pulling and hauling. Its dogs' work, not 
men's. If you want to come with us, come. If 
not, stay here and freeze to hell. We've taken our 
share of the chow, and we're off. We can make 
better time without you than with you." 



216 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

I was unarmed and practically alone. The only- 
other man I could count on, on deck, was Whinney 
and he was still half blind. But I did not hesitate 
a second. 

Reaching upward I grasped a heavy icicle which 
hung from the main stay sail block and raised it 
high above my head. "Mutiny!" I cried. Plock 
dodged and treacherously thrust in front of him 
Dane, who received the full force of the blow.. At 
the same instant the crack of a revolver rang out 
and I fell senseless to the deck. 

When I regained consciousness four hours later, 
my first act was to stagger to my feet. The bullet 
had inflicted only a bone-bruise, just grazing my 
head, and thanks to Sausalito's prompt skill, I was 
still alive. She, poor creature, in her humble way, 
had shown naught but subservience since we had 
started southward. 

"Where are they? Did you get them?" I 
shouted. 

"No, sir," replied Triplett, shame-facedly. 
"They got away. Took most 'er the grub, too. 
You see we wuz unprepared. I was in my nighty." 

"So was I," echoed Swank. 

"Fools!" I blazed. "Idiots! Cowards! Follow 
me." 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 217 

It took their combined efforts to hold me in the 
cabin. I was still too weak to put up much of a 
fight. But the following morning we started. 

Leaving Whinney alone, with instructions to 
fire an answering signal if he heard our shots, I 
divided our party into two groups. Dane, I might 
mention, still lay senseless in the lazarette. Frissell 
went with Triplett, Swank and Sausalito, who re- 
fused to be left behind, accompanied me. 

My instructions were to circle the Kawa with 
a half mile radius increasing this distance each time 
the two parties met. Five times this toilsome 
operation was repeated. Hundreds of times I 
paused to scan the horizon with my glasses. The 
murky daylight, of which we were beginning to 
have a scant two hours, was fading and I was in 
despair. A short distance from the ship what there 
had been of a trail became confused. The fugitives 
appeared to have separated. Perhaps dissension as 
to direction had already broken out. We stumbled 
on in despair. 

Suddenly a cry from Sausalito brought me up, 
standing. Her sharp eyes had detected nearly a 
mile away, a black figure moving across the ice, 
the bulky form of Plock. He was running toward 
a narrow lead of open water of which we had 



218 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

encountered several on the previous day. I saw at 
once that his plan was to leap the intervening water 
and trust to the widening breach to cut off pursuit. 
There was not an instant to lose. 

Adjusting both hind and fore sights, I took care- 
ful aim and fired. 

He pitched forward in the act of jumping and 
lay on the very edge of the floe. So great was the 
impetus of his huge carcass, that, to my horror, I 
saw his heavy pack slide over his head and dis- 
appear into the inky waters. It sank instantly. 
He was stone dead when we came up to him, his 
body already rigid with cold. 

"We shall have to take him back," I said. In my 
mind was a fear, born of past experience, that we 
might need him. 

Dragging our loathsome burden we made a 
slow trip toward the supposed location of the Kawa. 
Black night had fallen and we could see nothing. 
A fine snow set in. I at once fired the danger 
signal and was immensely relieved to hear answer- 
ing shots from a direction at right angles to that in 
which we had been travelling. Such are the narrow 
squeaks of polar travel. 

We found that Triplett and Frissell had gotten 
in before us bringing the half frozen Wigmore, 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 219 

whom they had stumbled across by pure luck. He 
was without supplies or oomiak and must have 
perished in another five minutes. When he had 
recovered sufficiently to speak he confirmed my 
suspicions. Two hours out from the Kawa a bitter 
quarrel had broken out and the deserters had sepa- 
rated but not before Sloff and Plock had despoiled 
him of his food and protecting garments. "Another 
mouth to feed," I thought bitterly. 

Sloif and Miskin were never heard of again. 
Somewhere in the heart of the floe their bodies lie, 
intact. But there can be no hell hot enough for 
their souls. 

Of our supplies were left two cases of herring 
and a bale of shredded wheat, for seven men and 
one woman. 



Now if ever had come the time for me to prove to 
my comrades the value of what the North had 
previously taught me, namely, how to live off the 
ice. As has been proven by travellers before me, 
this can be done. But the reader is asked to re- 
member that we had embarked on our cruise with no 
suspicion that it would ever be necessary. Our 
equipment was designed for a mode of life from 



DIRTY WORK AT THE IGLOO? 

No, there is really nothing wrong with this picture. Dr. Traprock 
explains that a scene of this sort, while unusual is not extraordinary. 

North of Eighty-six a man's rights are what he takes, a woman's 
what she can get. The facts of this particular case are as follows: 
Lapatok had captured a young pemmican in a snare of her own de- 
vising. Unaware that she was being observed by the all-seeing eye 
of her husband, Makuik, she began stripping off the bird's feathers 
and scales (with which its underside is covered) with her teeth, 
apparently preparatory to eating it. This is absolutely contrary to 
Kryptok law. All food is the common property of the family and 
must be instantly brought before the Aklok or Strong Man to be 
cached by him in the community food bin. Failure to do this 
means death. 

Makuik was quick to act. The expression on his face leaves no 
doubt that he would speedily have exacted the extreme penalty 
(partial as he was to Lapatok) had she not been able, with her 
next-to-last breath, to gasp out the time-honored words "Na-pok !" — 
"our child." 

In the few moments allowed her she explained that her inten- 
tion had been merely to masticate the bird, giving the first share 
to Kopek, her infant, who was at that very moment desperately 
stricken with the teething-sickness, and bringing the remainder to 
her lord and master. With true womanly ingenuity she likewise 
pleaded that as the latest of Makuik's wives and a member of the 
Klinka tribe she knew nothing of Kryptok law. She thus appealed 
both to her husband's heart and head with the result that he let 
her off with nothing more serious than a severe beating which was 
terminated by the stern injunction, "Kapok Fakalok ook." — "A 
woman's place is in the Igloo." The pemmican in the meanwhile es- 
caped and may be seen as illustrated, winging his way out of focus. 

As if touched by his wife's plea and anxious to re-establish both 
her good-will and his own authority, Makuik later killed the fowl 
on the wing with sling-dart thrown from a distance of forty salmon- 
spears. (Approximately 280 ft.) 




I 

U 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 223 

which only the treachery of a human element had 
forced us to depart. 

And now we were to experience' that fatal lack 
of living game which as I have noted, seems to 
haunt the foot steps of the hunter to whom game 
is a dreadful necessity. The season was still early 
and bird life was practically extinct north of the 
circle. Occasionally we sighted an isolated pemmi- 
can or a tiny lapwing, too distant or too small to 
be shot at. Our store of ammunition was much 
too scarce to be wasted in pot shots. Of seals and 
walruses we saw absolutely none. 

Day after day, in the grisly dawn of the new 
season, we crept on. Day after day we tightened 
our belts and stared each other in the face. And in 
the face of each stared a spectre more grisly still. 

A few entries from my diary will best record the 
harrowing tale of what followed. 

"Feb. 23rd. Ate the last of herring this noon. 
Reduced wheat ration to % cake for person. 
Sorted extra clothing (Plock's) for possible food. 

Feb. 27th. Shredded-wheat supply fast di- 
minishing. S. busy all day cleaning Plock's oomiak 
and leggins. Will it come to him? 

March 3rd. Last of leggins for lunch. Whinney 
slightly ill, but eyesight improving. A good day's 



224 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

hauling. Crossed two open leads but saw no seal. 

March 4th. A great day! Sighted seal herd 
two miles away, the first we have seen on the floe. 
Stalked them carefully, taking Frissell with me. 
By "playing seal," yooping and crawling, suc- 
ceeded in getting into the very center of herd where 
we killed two with atomizers. A great saving of 
ammunition. Seal gorge tonight. 

March 5th. All hands ill. 

March 6th. Same. 

March 12th. Finished last of seal. Flock's 
oomiak tomorrow. 

March 14th. No food whatsoever. Very weak. 

March 15th. Same. Weaker. 

March 16th. (The writing is almost illegible) 
Flock. 

March 19th. Finished Flock. Tough, as 
always." 

March 20th dawned as a day of despair. My 
companions, weakened by starvation, refused to 
pull another ounce. We had come to a standstill. 
Scarcely able to stand, desperate, but still unwilling 
to admit myself beaten, I set forth alone. 

Swank would have accompanied me but fell as 
he attempted to climb down to the ice and was 
unable to rise. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 225 

"Don't go," he pleaded. 

"Herman," I said, "if the Traprock expedition 
perishes, Traprock will be the first man to go." 

I wrung his hand and departed. Four miles 
from the ship I fainted. Regaining consciousness 
I crawled on, on my hands and knees. Another 
spasm of dizziness seized me and I sank down to 
rest. As I did so, a far-off sound reached me, the 
faint roaring of a bull seal. Peering across the 
floe I saw him dimly. He must have been slightly 
over a mile away. At 6000 yards I fixed him 
tremblingly on the crossed wires of my telescopic 
sight. Even then his image was vague, but it was 
now or never. 

Bang! A louder roar reached me and I saw the 
great brute raise himself convulsively. But would 
he still escape me ? No ! He lay still. 

When I reached him two hours later I saw, some- 
what to my chagrin, why he had not moved. He 
was a giant chap of the "phoca barbata" family, 
the bearded seal. His beard was frozen in the ice. 

My shot had been wasted.* 

Fate seems sometimes to play her last trick on a 



* On all my trips I have carried the gun I refer to, a Mannlicher- 
Schopenhauer, 6 MM, extra heavy. There is nothing compares with 
it for long range fire. W. E. T. 



226 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

man and, finding she cannot down him, suddenly 
gives up and turns to helping him. So it was in 
my case. 

Fortified by a draught of warm seal oil, which 
was like nectar to my lips, I made my way back to 
the Kawa with as much of the great carcass as I 
could carry. The rest was speedily brought aboard. 
The effect of the physical reinforcement was magi- 
cal. 

Not only did my comrades' spirits revive but such 
minor ailments as had put in an appearance were 
immediately dissipated. Triplett got well of a 
touch of his old scurvy which had been bothering 
him. Whinney's eyes cleared up completely and 
Wigmore who had been quite daffy since his rescue, 
became suddenly sane again and, I am glad to say, 
devoutly thankful to me for having preserved him 
from the fate of his companions. 

The weather, too, favored us. Constantly in- 
creasing light and rising temperature brought at 
last the wonderful realization that we had entered 
the zone of spring! Never did Spring dawn so 
gloriously in my life. 

Our progress was now rapid with the Tutbury 
running magnificently on a mixture of whale and 
seal oil, with both main and jigger drawing to a 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 227 

quartering breeze, we were making approximately 
twelve knots. A school of porpoises gambled about 
us as merrily as if, as Frissell said, "school were 
out!" Whales and walruses spouted under our 
lee. The date was April third. 

Sausalito, indomitable soul, who had never 
faltered, had climbed to her favorite place in the 
crow's nest. From this high perch I suddenly heard 
her voice, shrill with excitement. 

"Land ho! Land ho!" 

A sturdy cheer went up to meet her and we all 
scanned the low-lying cloud on the southern sky 
line while Sausalito modestly descended. 

It was indeed land. Eight hours later we 
dropped anchor in a sheltered bay. The sun had 
sunk below the horizon and violet dusk seemed to 
rise from the still water. 

Three miles away the lights of an eskimo village 
twinkled through the haze and on the falling breeze 
we caught the sound of the sweetest singing that 
had ever fallen on human ears. 

It was the song of the workers in the ice fields, 
harvesting the new crop for our own America! 



Chapter X 

In home maters. The celebration in our honor. 
And what of my companions? Reveries and 
Recollections, The End, 



£29 



Chapter X 

The balance of my story is briefly told. On 
April twenty- third, we picked up Fire Island light 
and two hours later had received a clean bill of 
health from the quarantine station. 

The trip back through Baffin Bay had been un- 
eventful. We had come as we had gone, in a direct 
line. At Triplett's request we put in at St. 
John's. He went ashore, taking Sausalito with him. 
Late in the afternoon he returned, alone. His 
stony eye forbade cross examination, but I ques- 
tioned him that night in the cabin. 

"She's went back to Californy" he said. "You 
see, I got kinder tired of her. Besides I'm headin' 
back ter Noo York." 

Again his slow wink expressed volumes. 

I have not seen that strange woman since. She 
sends me a picture post card occasionally, usually 
a winter scene, with mica snow. It is her inarticu- 

231 



THE CONSULTATION 

Nothing was more characteristic of the candor and co-operative 
spirit of the Commander of the Traprock Expedition than his con- 
stant willingness to discuss matters with his fellow-travellers. One 
of the most moot of all moot questions which frequently presented 
itself was that of route. Having arrived at a certain or uncertain 
point in the vast snowfields, someone was sure to ask, "Where do 
we go from here?" or "Where do you think you are now?" 

From the outset Dr. Traprock realized the desirability of an 
answer to such interrogations. His experience during numerous 
previous Arctic voyages convinced him that most of the bitterness of 
feeling which almost inevitably disrupts polar-parties springs from 
the unwillingness, to put it mildly, of the leader to satisfy the natural 
curiosity of his men in this regard. In order to avoid this diffi- 
culty he had carefully perpared maps showing the progress made 
during each day with the projected itinerary, points of interest, and 
probable weather conditions. Colored crayons added a decorative 
value to the charts. 

We here see him explaining to Wigmore, the somewhat belligerent 
snow-and-ice-expert, the proposed return route. Instead of confus- 
ing the rather unscientific man with a mass of latitudinal and longi- 
tudinal figures, the Doctor states the whole matter clearly by saying, 
"We simply follow the green line." 

The fatal results of disregarding this injunction are embodied in 
the text. Needless to say they fully prove the value of the Com- 
mander's cartographical skill. An interesting sidelight is the fact 
that their daily charts were equally accurate when based on solar 
observation or during the long Arctic night when the only basis 
of authority was Captain Triplett's amazing bump of locality, 
which was about the size of a hen's-egg. 




A Consultation 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 235 

late way of asking forgiveness for the blow she 
dealt me. 

Just inside the three mile limit we were boarded 
by revenue officers from the patrol boat, W. H. 
Anderson. They made a careful search for 
liquor. 

"Back to abnormalcy!" carped Swank who was 
panting to get ashore. 

My wires from Grant Land (via Indian runners 
to Moose Factory) had warned the scientific world 
of our arrival. Further details, giving brief ac- 
counts of the deaths of Plock, Miskin and Sloff had 
been telegraphed from St. John's. 

The same gala array and marine salutation which 
had sped our departure welcomed our return. But 
it was with a heavy heart that I stepped on the 
Yacht Club landing stage. My mysterious orders 
were still to be explained, orders which, had they 
reached me when intended, would have brought me 
ignominiously home, empty of honors and achieve- 
ment. 

A number of strange faces surrounded me in the 
club room among which I recognized Harris, thi 
E.U. secretary, "Harmless" Harris we used to call 
him. 

"Where is Waxman?" I asked coldly. 



236 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

A shadow of pain flitted across his face. 

"Of course," he murmured. "You haven't 
heard ... it was very sudden . . . poor Wax- 
man . . . heart failure, you know . . . the day 
after we heard of your safe arrival." 

So my old friend Waxman was gone. With the 
receipt of this news I instantly dismissed all unkind 
thoughts I may have had of this benevolent old 
man. As I look at his photograph now, on my 
mantelpiece, bland and serene, it seems to breathe 
a benediction upon me. The pleading look in his 
eyes seems still to ask for peanuts. May I cherish 
always, as he did, a love for other explorers and an 
interest in their exploits. 

If anything was calculated to further soften my 
heart it was the more joyous occasion which fol- 
lowed, the grand banquet given in my honor at 
the Hotel Commodore. That entire, mighty hive 
hummed with explorers and noted travellers. Over- 
flow meetings were held in the Biltmore, Yale Club, 
Grand Central Station and on nearby subway 
platforms. 

The scene in the ballroom beggared description. 
On the dais with me sat representatives of all the 
National scientific bodies and distinguished guests 
from abroad. Publishers, artists and editors were 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 237 

present by the hundreds. Famous actors forced 
their way to my chair, above which blossomed the 
words "Traprock must be true" done in thousands 
of Bougainvihas and snowdrops. 

The colleges of the country had sent their delega- 
tions, my own Alma Mater surpassing all with a 
group of two hundred bright-faced lads whose 
merry songs and cheers made the welkin ring. 
They had come by special train from New Haven, 
accompanied by members of the faculty, for whom 
the affair was a great junket, you may be sure. 
Harvard stood officially aloof owing to their recent 
ban on Eskimos, but the great sister university, as 
well as Princeton, was represented by individuals 
who made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in 
numbers. 

When my brothers in the Phi Chapter of D.K.E. 
arose and sang our fraternal anthem I felt obliged 
to remain seated. Let me here explain that curious 
action. It was because my mind went back to that 
period of terrific strain when I had actually eaten 
SL Brother ! 

But the thing which touched me most deeply* was 

♦ Excepting, perhaps, the long telegram from my old friend Capt. 
Peter Fitzurse, explaining that he was unavoidably detained cor- 
recting the proof of his forthcoming autobiography. See appendix 
for further light on Fitzurse's claim that the three fingers missing 



238 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

the presence, at adjoining tables of the combined 
Boards of Trade of Derby and Shelton, sister 
cities of the Housatonic, and the Derby Fencibles, 
forty strong, accompanied by their fife and drum 
corps wearing the old continental uniforms. My 
eyes dimmed as I thought of the stirring times when 
I had stepped to that same inspiring music, as we 
practised our secret marches back of the old Ster- 
ling Melodeon factory. 

The chairman of the evening was my lifelong 
friend Irving T. Grosbeak, R.O.T.C. who was in- 
troduced by Luther Slattin the new president of 
the E.U. Other addresses were made by Professor 
Phineas A. Crutch,* F.P.A., S.O.S., Col. Wood- 
wark of the Canadian Mounted and Lord Beaver- 
board of the South African Game Commission, 
The principal forensic display was by Ex- 
senator Wicklefield of Wyoming whom Dr. Gros- 
beak characterised brilliantly as "The Aurora 
Borealis of Oratory, the most dependable geyser in 
the world since Old Faithful blew up and became 
a brook." 

But the climax of the evening came when an old 

from his right hand actually were frozen off when he grasped the 
North Pole, W. E. T. 
♦Author of "The Queen of Sheba." 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 239 

man in a red shirt and fire helmet tottered to my 
side and with tears streaming down his face, 
quavered, "The world may claim Walter Traprock 
but we own him." 

It was old "Shelly" Smith of Naugatuck Hose 
Co. No. 1. His father used to spade our garden. 

Of course I was called upon for a speech but for 
the first time in my life I begged to be excused. 
Mj^ heart was too full. Captain Triplett stood up 
in my place and embarrassed me by pointing his 
horny finger in my direction and saying repeatedly, 
"He done it." 

Grammatical errors in public always annoy 
me. 

The rest is history. I shall never return to the 
North. I feel that I have seen all that it can offer. 
My work in that direction is done. 

Of those who returned with me all but one has 
carved his niche in the rocks of time. The excep- 
tion is Dane, who has never fully recovered from 
the blow dealt him, by my arm indeed, but due to 
the cowardly shove of Plock. His work in com- 
parative ethnology, however, was accomplished 
before he was stricken. His object in making the 
trip was to discover the similarities, if any, between 
the surviving Eskimo tribes and the early civiliza- 



240 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

tion of the Nile dynasties. The only entry I find 
in his note books is the rather pathetic one "no 
report." 

He is now occupying a comfortable room in the 
Shadyside Retreat, Walnut st., Philadelphia, where 
he busies himself cutting out paper dolls of 
Egyptian character, and where I occasionally visit 
him. 

Frissell remains the same blithe spirit as ever. 
The horrors of our return voyage left no more last- 
ing impression on this debonair youth than a 
passing fit of seasickness. 

Swank and Whinney naturally show spiritual 
scars, especially the latter, though he is greatly 
cheered by the royalties received from the sale 
of his sprightly journal, written in total darkness.* 
My two close companions and I, with the occasional 
addition of Triplett when we can lure him from 
his own diggings often dine together at a cosy 
little tea house in Forty-fifth Street. There we 
plan new ventures and discuss the old. What stir- 
ring memories flock about us, what tender visions 
neath Tropic sun and Arctic stars ! 

Kippiputuona, Babai, Ikik, Lapatok, their 

♦Light on the Pole, by R. Whinney. $5.00 net, $4.60 in lots of 
six. Post. prep. Intr. by Prof. C. Towne, Nyack University. 



MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 241 

names are a sentimental rosary, a succession of 
lovely chords, lost chords, but, let us hope, not the 
last! 

At a recent meeting the recollection of Whin- 
ney's affliction evoked from him this brave 
comment. 

"Just think!" he mused, "to love a woman, to lose 
her, and to never see her." 

"Whinney," I said, raising my glass in his 
direction, "there is more in life than merely 
seeing." 



APPENDIX 

In reference to a note on page 180, it seems de- 
sirable to reprint below (1) a paragraph which 
recently appeared in a New York newspaper over 
the signature of Don Marquis, and (2) a copy of 
the letter written by Dr. Traprock to Mr. Marquis 
clearing up the point in question. Ed. 



A great deal of doubt is cast by his strange 
reticences upon the recent claim of Dr. Walter 
E. Traprock that he reached the North Pole. Did 
he, or did he not, find three fingers at the Pole which 
were frozen off of the hand of Capt. Peter Fitzurse 
when the Captain grasped the Pole, more than forty 
years ago, being the first man to lay his hand upon 
it? If he did not find these fiuagers, he did not reach 
the Pole. If he found them, and has said nothing 
about it, his object in concealing the fact can be 
nothing else than an unworthy jealousy. Who is 
tjbis Traprock, anyhow? Capt. Fitzurse intimates 

243 



244 APPENDIX 

that at the proper time he has startling revelations 
to make. It is significant that Traprock was first 
heard of a year or two after Dr. Cook ceased to 
figure in the public prints. 



On Board "Kawa" 
Peck's Slip, N. Y. 
July 21, 1922. 

Don Marquis, Esq., 
Park Row, 
New York City. 

Dear Sir: — 

A number of my friends have called my attention 
to recent remarks published over your signature 
which by insinuation cast a veil of ambiguity over 
my identity. I am not used to having veils cast over 
me and I resent the practice. 

"Whois this person, Traprock?" you ask. "Has 
he ever been to the North Pole?" 

Let the ice-bergs answer! Let the Polar-pack 
groan its reply. I scorn to. 

You also ask if by any chance I discovered three 
fingers frozen to the Pole. I did find three fingers 
not frozen to the Pole, but preserved in an other- 
wise empty gin bottle. They were cached in a rude 



APPENDIX 245 

cairn, mute memorials of some brave man who had 
ventured north of eighty-six. Of course I at once 
thought of my friend Fitzurse. Could they be his? 
The nails were not black enough, but I could not 
be sure. 

I took them with me to the Pole, purposing to 
leave them with my records, but my plans were 
modified by the extraordinary attraction which the 
fingers had for Ikik, Snak and Yalok, three Eskimo 
women whom I found living at the Pole, or to be 
exact, under it. 

How, finally, to preserve peace I divided the 
fingers giving one to each to wear as a talisman is 
an enlivening memory. A few days later, noticing 
that Ikik was not wearing her finger I questioned 
her as to its whereabouts. "Me eat" she said* The 
others had done likewise. I trust that any doubts 
you may have had in regard to my identity etc. will 
be dissipated by these circumstantial details. 

Yours, 

Walter E. Traprock 



The 
Cruise of the Kawa 

By 

Dr. Walter E. Traprock, 
r. R. s. s. E. u. 

A delicious literary burlesque — superlatively 
amusing. Here are found the wak^wak, that 
horrid super-seamonster; the gallant fatU'^Uva 
birds who lay square eggs; the flowing hoopa 
bowl, and the sensuous nablscus plant; the 
tantalizing) tatooing, fabulous folk music; the 
beautiful, trusting Filbertine women and their 
quaint marriage customs, as well as the dread 
results of the white man's coming — all described 
with a frank freedom, Uterary charm and meticu- 
lous regard for truth which is delightful. 

The Cruise of the Kawa stands unique among 
the literature of modern exploration. Nothing 
like it has ever come out of the South Seas. It 
is the travel book of years. Strikingly illustrated, 
too, from special photographs, it tells pictorially, 
as well as verbally, the exciting, amusing and 
entertaining story of an exploration in the South 
Seas. 



G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York London 



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